30 Days With Curly Shepard
by Ryomou
Summary: Every intelligent cell in my body screamed for me to stop, to leave before I got in over my head, to walk away and never look back. But you know what? I'm glad I didn't listen. Curly/OC
1. Day One

To all the readers of All Shook Up, this is the same story in a different order with a few small changes. I didn't like the way it was written and Katie's character wasn't developing the way I intended her to. So, I ended up making this instead. :)

**WARNING: There will be graphic lemon involved. Yes kiddies, that means sexy time. Don't say I didn't warn you. **

I in no way, shape, or form own The Outsiders no matter how much I wish otherwise.

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><p>I trudged my way up to the concession at the Nightly-Double, carefully dodging the small clusters of people milling about the staircase. If I had a say in the matter, I would be at home doing something semi-productive rather than wasting four hours watching a double feature of a movie I didn't care about. Sometimes I really wish I was an only child. Marcie, my oldest sister, asked me and Charlotte to leave so that her boyfriend could "visit" tonight. And when I say 'asked us to leave,' I really mean 'tossed a dollar at us and told us to get the hell out until midnight.' She's always been that way though, brash and uncaring, so I wasn't too upset. In fact, I was kind of happy to spend some time with my other sister—also older than me—until she started hooking up with a guy I've never seen before in the backseat of the car.<p>

So, now I'm here, alone and all different kinds of pissed because I just realized that Charlotte didn't even have the decency to let me have the rest of our money. It's probably somewhere near ten o'clock at the moment, and the humid summer heat hasn't let up since this morning. I wanted a nice, cold drink more than anything in the world. I was sweating something awful and my shirt was starting to cling uncomfortably to my back. The air was thick, like there was more liquid than oxygen, making me feel groggy and sluggish and even a little bit annoyed.

The idea that I should probably move away from the concession stand door came a moment too late as it swung open and a hard body collided into me from behind. I let out an embarrassingly high pitched yelp as ice-cold liquid spilled over my shoulder, running down the front of my shirt. The lethargic haze I had just been swimming in snapped away from me so fast that my head began to spin.

"What the _fuck_, man?" The voice was gravelly and deep and angry. My blood ran cold and I whirled around, ready to issue apologies, only to have my heart stop mid-beat in my chest.

In front of me stood a god among men; he was stocky, broad-shouldered, and possessed the telltale 'fresh from the cooler' muscular physique. His hair was like a lion's mane, dark, thick, curly and longer than average. Ungreased, it framed his face in the most pleasant of ways, drawing out high cheekbones and blazing cobalt blue eyes—eyes that were both sharp and wide, innocent in their cunning, and framed by a set of thick lashes. His nose was well-shaped, perfect for his face, and it paved the way down to a pouty mouth that looked like it was made to commit nothing but sin.

My voice caught in the back of my throat, driving a choking wheeze from my mouth rather than words. I watched, captivated, as he pinched his lips together and blinked for a moment. His angry expression began to quickly fade, only to be replaced by an unexpectedly _sexy _wicked smirk. My face flushed as those blue eyes slowly roved up and down my body, lingering on my chest for far too long. I glanced down too…and immediately regretted it. He had been drinking water. The shirt I was wearing was white. _Shit. _My simple, light blue bra glared clear as day through the now translucent fabric. _Shit. _I could feel my face burn with embarrassment and tears tried to prick the back of my eyes. He chuckled.

"Cold, baby?" His tone was mocking, and my heart clenched again, this time for a completely different reason. Hurt, but determined not to show it, I clung to the rule that every greaser knows: Act mad. I hissed out the only thing I could think of.

"Fuck you."

That smirk of his widened, and I mustered up my strongest glare before stomping off down the stairs. I silently wished for some dark corner for me to curl up and die in. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the rows of seats on the ground floor and noticed that there weren't many people there. I turned towards them and made to go left, into the shadiest area, when a solid hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Whoa, why the rush, darlin'?" Dear god, he followed me. Before I could so much as take a breath, he wrapped a strong arm around me and guided my body into the nearest seat. He flopped down beside me, making himself comfortable. "There," he continued. "Tha's not so bad, is it?" It was more of a statement than a question. He didn't move his arm away and I crossed my own over my chest to sooth the pounding there. I wanted my heart would freeze like it did before, at least that way he wouldn't be able to hear it.

"What do you want?" I managed, aggravated that my voice sounded nervous and weak. He chuckled again, the sound resonating from deep within his chest as he flashed me a full grin. For whatever reason, my eyes darted to him and I took quick note of his teeth. They were white but not completely straight, a few in the front angling slightly towards each other. I kind of liked it.

"Who says I wan' somethin'?" He asked innocently. I shot him an incredulous look.

"Wrong answer," I replied. "Try again."

"Shoot, yer a sassy one." His compliment made me blush. "Maybe I jus' wanna 'poligize for ruinin' yer shirt." The appendage around my shoulders tightened slightly. "Or maybe I wanna spend a little time with a good-lookin' gal I ain't never seen 'round here b'fore."

_Damn_. I thought I was blushing before, but that was nothing compared to right now. Heat was radiating off my face in waves and a slight tremble started up in my knees. I've never had a guy try and pick up on me before. Normally, they go for my sisters. Compared to them, I'm so plain that it's almost pathetic.

Marcie's always been really tall, with endless legs and a slim body that could captivate any male. Charlotte's tall too, and bit less curvy, but with honey colored hair and sky blue eyes that are always shining and laughing. They're both beautiful. Me…I'm short. I have wide hips and a larger chest, but my height makes it look awkward. I'm the only one in my family with dark hair and eyes—evidence of my mother's affair—and I just kinda lack that seductive allure that most other girls seem to have.

The thought that he was tricking me raced through my mind. Maybe he was messing with me, trying to get me all excited so he could laugh about it later. I just couldn't see any other explanation. But, at the same time…trick or not…this could be a good opportunity. I've never been much of a flirt, so I could learn from this. There's no harm in playing along for a little while, right? Right. With that thought in mind, I relaxed a bit, uncrossing my arms and forcing my body out of its rigid state.

"What's your name?" I probed, glad that my voice was steady. His tongue glided along the top row of his teeth as he considered my question.

"Curly Shepard," he answered.

"Curly…" I tested his name, loving the way it rolled out of my mouth. "I'm Katie."

"Tha's it?" He teased. "No las' name?" His hand squeezed my upper arm gently, a soothing gesture.

"Jewell," I offered. "Katie Jewell."

"Well, Katie Jewell…" Curly leaned closer, and I shivered slightly. "Wha's a girl like you doin' at the drive-in all by her lonesome on a Saturday night?" I felt the soft brush of air against my cheek as he spoke, and desire slashed through me as fierce and quick as a bolt of lightning. I sucked a corner of my bottom lip into my mouth—his eyes followed it—and I gave him a sheepish smile.

"Hiding." I said. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "From my sisters," I clarified.

"Hhhmmm," Curly hummed in agreement. "Been there b'fore. I got a brother an' a sister myself."

"Really?" I don't know why that surprised me. "Both of mine are older…" I let my sentence trail off, not entirely sure where I was going with it.

"Ahh, so yer the baby of the fam'ly, huh? An' you only got sisters?" I nodded, peeking up at him through my eyelashes. The arm around me finally budged, slowly retreating from around my shoulders. The next thing I knew, a large hand came into my line of vision. Curly gently pushed a strand of hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. "So, I ain't gotta worry 'bout a big brother comin' to hunt me down then?" He shifted once more, letting one of his knees brush against my own.

Remember when I said I wanted my heart to freeze instead of pound? I lied. The muscle seized up painfully in my chest before jumping straight into my throat. I shook my head, partly to clear the fog that had settled there and partly to answer Curly's question.

"Anyone waitin' on you tha's gonna get jealous?" he asked, fingertips trailing softly down the length of my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shook my head again.

"You?" I almost whispered, a little scared of the answer. His cobalt eyes flicked up and to the left for a few seconds, like he was thinking of a lie. Of course he had a girl waiting on him, probably even a few. Either way, I knew wasn't going to tell the truth.

"Naw," he gruffly whispered back. Every intelligent cell in my body screamed for me to stop, to leave before I got in over my head, to walk away and never look back. But hormones are powerful little beasts and I leaned a fraction closer to him instead. Curly's eyes flashed, cocky and triumphant, as he carefully grasped my chin in his hand. I allowed my eyes to flutter shut, and seconds later I felt the soft brush of lips against my cheek. His mouth was hot as it slowly trailed down to my jaw, pausing to nip at the skin there. I gave a sharp gasp, he turned my head, and then our mouths were connected.

Our first kiss was soft, revealing not even the slightest hint of desire or lust. Curly's lips moved slow and gentle, as if he was testing the waters to see how I would react. The second kiss was firmer, more sure and more solid. I felt his hand move from my chin to the back of my neck, cupping it, and forcing my head to tilt, giving him better access. Suddenly, he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth, tugging it harshly before releasing.

A spark of fire raced through my body, filling my veins and settling deep inside my core. A lusty fog began clouding my brain, switching off every commonsense filter until further notice. Boldly, I let my tongue peak between my lips and lightly caress the seam of his mouth. Curly sighed contently, making me quiver, before slipping the tip of his own out and letting it glide against mine. Our top lips joined, and Curly began to tease. His slick muscle stroked my own, deliberately and methodically—in a slight circular motion—never letting more than just the tips touch. His tongue flicked upward, rubbing the bottom of my upper lip before enticing me back into our wicked dance. It was a pleasurable and agonizing torture. I wanted that sweltering mouth pressed against mine; I wanted to taste him, to feel him, more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life.

I noiselessly whined, hoping he would understand. He did. Curly's mouth crashed against my own, tongues and teeth clashing, and he moved the hand that wasn't on my neck to rest on my upper thigh. I moaned at his taste. He was spicy and warm and more delectable than any delicacy I had ever tasted. His tongue danced around my teeth and brushed against the roof of my mouth, making sure not to leave any part untouched.

I rolled my own under his, effectively trapping it before sucking. Hard. The surprised groan that followed fired another flare of heat down below my waist, forcing me to squeeze my legs together in hopes of relieving some of the pressure there. I began kneading his tongue desperately, as if to transfer some of my need over to him.

The hand on the back of my neck clenched and Curly took a deep breath of air through his nose before emitting a smooth growl. He started to pull back, retreating into his own mouth and disconnecting our lips, but staying close enough that I could feel them brush against mine as he spoke.

"_Fuck,_" he praised, voice husky and deep with desire. I exhaled in agreement. "Ya wanna…take this someplace else, baby?" Did I? Was I ready for this—a sexual experience with a boy I hadn't even met ten minutes earlier? One who was obviously amazingly skilled? My palms were beginning to sweat, from nerves or persistent lust I didn't know. On one hand, I've never been very…practiced… in this particular area. Sure, I'd had sex before. Once. Two years ago. But that's not something Curly needed to know. But, on the other hand, and this is the hand that was winning, I may never get this opportunity again. I'm sitting here, nearly mouth to mouth with an impossibly attractive guy who seems to want me as much as I want him…and what else is there to add? Besides, hasn't every girl fantasized about mind-blowing semi-public sex with a stranger at some point?

My mind was made up.

"Yeah…" I answered, my speech as breathy and wanton as his. Curly gave me a small, quick peck on the lips before grasping my hand in his. He sprang from his seat, carefully tugging me up with him.

"C'mon," he urged. And I followed. We hurried back up the stairs where we first bumped into each other, kept moving past the concession stand and down a smaller set of stairs, all while I stared at the glorious swaying backside in front of me thanking God for the man that invented jeans. Curly pulled me into a small concrete hallway that housed three black painted doors—two on the left, one on the right. We chose the right.

It was a cramped, dingy bathroom with a single, bright light bulb dangling from the ceiling. Most of the tiles were cracked and graying with age and handfuls of brown paper towels littered the floor. But, other than that, the room was surprisingly clean. There was no smell, not even the lingering scent of cleanser or mold, meaning it must not get used often. The lock loudly clicked into place behind me as solid arms pulled me back into an even more solid chest.

"Don' be nervous," Curly murmured. I felt my face begin to heat up again. At this rate, I was going to end up with a permanent burn by the end of the night. I must have been out of it for a bit longer than I thought. I drooped and leaned into him, trying to time my inhalations with the steady rise and fall of his chest. "I take it you ain't never done this b'fore," he continued. I snorted at that.

"What? Gone to the bathroom with a complete stranger with more than friendly intentions?" I replied, proud of the suave way the words fell out of my mouth. "No, I can't say I have." Curly sniggered as he rested his head in the crook of my neck.

"Damn, yer a wiseass," his voice dropped at least seven octaves, regaining its husky quality. "But, ya know what?"

"What?" I inquired, a smile dancing on my lips.

"I like that."

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><p><strong>To Be Continued...<strong>

Comments and constructive criticism are very much loved and desired. :D

Also, I don't have a beta right now, so if there were any misspelled words or grammatical errors I'm really sorry. That kinda stuff bothers me. :P


	2. Day One Part 2

First and foremost I would like to thank **Hey Two-Bit Mickey's On TV****, ****AlexisLe97, ****Skullprincess46, **and** Yehhhok, **for being awesome and leaving me such supportive reviews. I dedicate this chapter to all of you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

That being said: **This chapter has lemony content. Graphic, graphic lemonyness. So, reader discretion is advised. :D **

I still don't own Curly Shepard or anyone else from The Outsiders. –sigh-

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><p>The arms holding me gave a squeeze before Curly pressed a blazing open-mouthed kiss to the side of my throat. A sharp gasp forced its way out of my mouth as the simmering inferno inside of me quickly roared back to life. I felt his lips curve into a smirk against my skin as a vicious tongue darted forward, licking a light trail from the junction between my neck and shoulder all the way up to my ear. He gently blew against it, letting the chill send shivers down my spine, only to retaliate with a harsh nip to my earlobe. The contrast was, for lack of a better term, mind-blowing.<p>

Large, callused hands pushed me a step away and turned me around. In the bright fluorescent light of the restroom, Curly Shepard was no longer a god among men, but an unfathomable entity that stole the breath from my lungs and the morals from my mind.

I took notice of things I hadn't been able to see in the darkness outside; like the faint dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the small flecks of sky blue hidden in his cobalt eyes, and the deep cherry color of his kiss-swollen lips. He grinned at me, showing off those adorable crooked teeth and I couldn't help but grin back.

"Hi," I giggled, an unintentional nervous reaction.

"Hey, he murmured back.

His hands moved upwards—beautiful hands, with long pianist fingers and strong wide palms—and he slowly ran them through my short brown hair. Then, like a blow to the stomach, I suddenly felt immensely insecure. Did he find me as attractive as I found him? It didn't seem likely. Hell, it didn't even seem possible.

I'm sure one would think that being pursued by someone so good-looking would make me feel gorgeous—sexy even—but it was actually quite the opposite. While I do consider myself rather run-of-the-mill, I never once thought I was ugly. At least, not until now. Standing next to Curly, I was like Gollum—the ill-fated ex-hobbit from the Lord of the Rings—hunched down in the corner.

My insecurities must have shown on my face because Curly's eyes narrowed as he furrowed his eyebrows. He cradled my face in his hands.

"Wha's wrong?" he asked, sounding both confused and concerned. I just shook my head, eyes cast downward. I knew better than to tell a potential hookup about my _problems_. "We…don' gotta do nothin', ya know. If ya changed yer mind…" My head snapped back up.

"No, no!" I frantically replied. "That's not it, I swear!" My face burned, _again_, when he gave me an amused look. I hadn't meant to sound so desperate.

"I'm just nervous," I tried to explain. And really, it wasn't a lie because I was nervous. Very, very nervous. And not the 'I'm about to give a speech in front of a hundred people nervous,' but the 'Holy shit, I'm going to have a heart attack and die nervous.' He ran a hand through my hair another time.

" ' Bout what?" His question caught me off guard. I had been expecting him to just accept the excuse and move on, not be all curious about it.

"Just…stuff." He cocked an eyebrow at me. The expression was cute, but my stomach churned when I realized I'd have to give a little if I wanted tonight to happen. "I'm not…very experienced," I admitted, hoping that would be enough to satiate him. Instead, his eyes hardened and his body stiffened considerably.

"Yer not…a virgin, are ya?" His voice was cautious and another anxious laugh burst out of me.

"No, I'm not. You have my word. I've done…this…" I flapped a hand in the empty space between us, "before. Just not…a lot." I wanted the warmth in my face to cool down, but my less than articulate words only made it worse. Still, Curly relaxed and that goofy smile of his spread back across his face.

"Ya had me worried for a sec there, baby," he chuckled. "Thought I 'bout tainted an innocent one." It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What, is corrupting the innocent not your thing?" I teased.

"Shoot, naw!" He exclaimed. "The virgin broads are fun to embarrass, but I ain't about to try an' get me one, cuz what she thinks 'bout sex for the rest of her life all d'pends on me. Tha' shit's fuckin' scary." I laughed, and this time it was one of genuine entertainment.

"Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah," he said with bright eyes. "Now," he placed his hands on my shoulders, "wha' were ya sayin'?"

"Uhhh…" I backtracked in my mind, trying to recall what I had been talking about just moments before. "Oh, yeah," anxiety fluttered inside of me all over again. "I'm not…experienced." Curly hummed in acknowledgement and nodded.

"Is tha' all?" he asked, tone mischievous.

"What do you mean _is that all_?" I sputtered indignantly.

"I mean, is tha' the only thing buggin' ya?" There was an uncomfortable pause between us.

"Yeah…"

"Yer a shit liar," he said.

I opened my mouth to say that there wasn't anything else, but something entirely different tumbled out instead. It was like a dam had burst and, like floodwaters, the words just kept flowing out no matter how hard I tried to stop them.

"I'm scared I won't be…good." Curly cocked his head to the side like an inquisitive puppy. "Anyone with eyes can see that you've been around plenty of times." He grinned at me. "What if you…don't like it? God, I don't even know why you chose me of all people, Curly. I'm not anything special! Just ask around, you'll hear it for yourself!" I flailed my arms for emphasis. "Maybe your fear of virgins has some reasoning behind it after all. I've only been with one person before, and you know what? It was terrible. Absolutely fucking terrible. Jesus Christ, I'm seventeen years old and I've never even had a…" My mouth slammed shut. I'm sure my eyes were as wide as saucers, brimming with tears of humiliation.

I took a second to wallow in self-loathing: loathing for not being able to tell a lie, for losing my fucking mind, for spilling my guts to guy I barely knew, and for spewing out _way too much _information. I peeked up at him, slightly terrified of what I would find.

Curly's grin was gone, that's for sure. Only, instead of looking annoyed or disgusted, he was sporting that sexy smirk that had cut across his face when he spilled his drink down my shirt.

"You ain't never had a what?" he prodded. My face lit up so hard it actually hurt.

"Nothing," I said, voice stumbling. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that. I'm just kinda anxious is all. So, let's just…forget about it." He refused to take the bait.

"No, ya started to say somethin'." Curly's fingers trailed down my arms and along my sides until he held a hip in each hand. "I wanna know wha' it was." His jaw was set in a determined line, making him look downright predatory. He was the hunter—a magnificent lion—and I was his prey.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I denied, even though I could see in his eyes that he had already figured out the rest of the sentence on his own. He bit his tongue for a moment as his smirk widened. Curly took a step forward. I took a step back. He took another forward, I took another back. We continued this way: forward, back, forward, back, until I hit the edge of the linoleum counter on the opposite wall.

"Yeah, ya do," he said, voice husky and low. "I may talk slow, sweetheart, but that don' mean ya can play me for a fool."

Suddenly, he pushed himself against me, and I could feel his hardened length pressing against my lower abdomen. And, despite my shock, despite the frantic buzzing in my brain and the pounding in my ears, the pressure between my legs was back—pulsating—and gathering wetness. I shook my head anyway, not willing to own up to the confession that almost fell from my lips.

Curly, still smirking, softly brushed his nose against mine in a sweet Eskimo kiss.

"Yer embarrassed," he stated, pushing against me a little more and moving one hand down to the curve of my ass. He gave it a forceful squeeze, and I keened in response. He chuckled, the noise vibrating in his chest.

"Ya like tha'?" he teased, moving his other hand so he could clench both cheeks. I had a white-knuckled grip on the counter as I arched back a bit, my groin pressing into his erection. Curly growled low in his throat, the sound coming out so deep that it was almost a purr. The pressure between my legs throbbed once more.

And then, Curly Shepard's mouth was on mine for the second time that night, and nothing existed except for tongues and teeth and yearning so fierce that it was no longer a want, but a _need_. I felt like I was melting from the inside out and I stretched my arms around him, nails digging into his skin, hoping he felt the same way. His tongue entwined with mine with an intimate grace that could only be described as a dance. But all too soon, it was over, and his lips left my own with a small pop as he squeezed my ass again.

As I was gasping for breath, Curly dropped his head, letting that sinful mouth trail kisses down my neck before finding my frantic pulse and pausing to bite at the skin there. One of my hands shot up to grab a fistful of his gorgeous black curls, intent on keeping him right where he was. He slowly turned his playful nibble into a long, drawn out suction—alternating between tongue and teeth, kneading the skin until it was tender and painful to the touch. Somewhere in my muddled mind, I thought about the large hickey that would be there when he was finished. Though at this point, I didn't really give a flying fuck.

The pressure between my legs was starting to ache, and Curly finished his ministrations with one last deliciously painful bite before removing my hand from his head and standing to whisper in my ear.

"Ya wanna know wha' I think, baby?" he asked, voice raspy with arousal. Those large hands dropped a bit more, grasping my upper thighs and jerking me up to sit on top of the counter. The ease with which he did it was both arousing and astonishing.

"What?" I gasped, my voice just as raw as his. A small peck was placed on my flushed cheek.

"I think," he began, pulling my thighs apart and tugging me forward so that my warm center was pressed against him, "you almos' told me," he ground his hips downward in a strong dry hump, "tha' you ain't never cum before."

Unable to verbally respond, I wildly nodded my head in confirmation. Curly nipped at the skin of my jaw.

"Yeah?" He asked, and frustration boiled inside of me at his teasing.

"Yeah," I whimpered back, hips moving in sync with his to keep the friction going. His fiery tongue traced the crease of my lips, coaxing my own muscle out to play. Like we had done out in seating area, our mouths stayed separated, allowing tongues to glide against one another undisturbed. His taste was still spicy and warm and so very intoxicating.

I felt his fingers leave my thighs to toy with the hem of my white shirt. Curly pulled away to glace at me, as if asking for permission. _Pffft….as if I would say no. _I raised my arms. The beaming smile I got in return was breathtaking.

Instead of ripping the fabric off as fast as possible, Curly decided to surprise me by sliding his hands underneath it and slowly moving upwards—teasing my sides, gliding over my ribs, kneading my full breasts, before moving back over my shoulders and above my head. He placed the shirt on the opposite side of the counter, an action I was extremely grateful for. After all, who wants to wear a shirt that was tossed on a public bathroom floor?

His eyes roved over my body, taking in every detail. Thankfully the near lethal level of horny infecting my body kept me from being self-conscious. I watched the blue irises move: _Chest, arms, neck, chest. Face, stomach, chest. Chest, chest, face, chest, chest, chest, neck, chest. _His focus was amusing and in a moment of daring, I reached back to unlatch my bra.

Curly's eyes widened marginally as I slid the straps of blue fabric over my shoulders, slowly exposing my breasts. While the action felt far from sexy coming from me, the experience was still unbelievably liberating. I tossed the restrictor aside; the childish part inside of me cheering when it landed right on top of my shirt. I leaned back on my hands, watching him watch me with an open leer made racier by a wicked smirk.

He moved closer, sensually grinding against me one more time before pulling off his black T-shirt. My wet heat throbbed multiple times, making me dizzy and my muscles weak. Curly's body was firm and solid, all soft skin and hard muscle. I sat up to place clammy hands on his chest as I eyed every flawless inch of him.

Jail had obviously treated him well, gifting him with toned pectorals and solid abdominals that would make any girl swoon—and every guy jealous. A few scars littered his torso, drawing attention to the six-pack that sloped down into a perfect v before disappearing into his tight jeans. On one jutting hipbone was a small prison tattoo, a detailed Celtic cross no bigger than my little finger. I hummed in pleasure at the sight before me and pressed a kiss to one of his abs.

Unexpectedly, Curly sighed and his member gave a strong twitch. He ran his fingers through my hair again—_it must be soft tonight_—before nudging me back so that I rested on my elbows. Wasting no time, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right between my breasts. The tenderness of the action was enough to make my entire body quiver. His fingers traced along the curves of the mounds, carefully weighing them with his fingers as he grabbed them fully. I felt like I had been lit on fire at the feeling of rough palms brushing against hardened nipples.

I contently exhaled and glanced down to see Curly peering up at me, eyes deceitfully innocent and wide. His blue depths held my gaze as his head slid over to my right breast and his tongue lashed out to tease the rosy bud there. I jolted at the electrifying sensation and my vision blurred when he repeated the action, again and again and again.

Then, his pouty lips closed over the nipple, gently suckling, as his hands rose to massage both breasts in time with his tugs. Eyelids hid blue eyes from me when they fluttered shut, and my heart staggered at the sight of him looking so peacefully gratified.

Of course, no matter how serene Curly looked, he was a trickster by nature and I should have anticipated another one of his sinful attacks. An uncomfortably loud moan was ripped from my mouth as teeth tightened on my sensitive nipple and his tongue locked harshly over the trapped bud. The opposite breast was being forcefully kneaded as he plucked at the nipple there, drawing it between his fingers, making sure it was just as hard as its counterpart.

"Curly…" I whimpered pathetically as the pulsing between my legs began spreading to my limbs.

He growled and ripped himself away from my chest, rising to lean over me. Curly's arms wrapped around my back, initiating skin-on-skin contact, as he pressed me flush against him. The feeling of my breasts touching his solid muscles was almost too much to bear, and I arched into him even more. His pelvis grinded up into my own one last time before he shoved me back down on my elbows, tongue flicking suggestively against my lips.

I opened my eyes, not even realizing that I had closed them, when Curly's gravelly voice caressed my ears in a way I didn't know was possible.

"I'mma make you cum for me." It wasn't a statement. It was a promise.

"Yeah?" I breathed.

"Mmhmm," his voice deepened even more. "An all ya gotta do…is let me lick your pussy. "

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><p><strong>Curly<strong>

I watched her pupils grow twice their normal size, hiding brown behind their blackness as a small gasp bolted from her mouth at my filthy words. Damn, if there was one thing I loved more than fuckin' a broad, it was talkin' dirty to her. Her whole body flushed, a rare and beautiful sight made all the more special b'cause I was the one causin' it. This chick, Katie, had no idea how extr'ordinary she was, had no fuckin' clue.

I had been pissed when I showed up at the Nightly Double a few hours ago. Pissed at Tim, pissed at Ma, pissed at that bitch Anita for blowin' me off... Ah, bu' then I ran inta this beauty, an' the way she looked—short hair fallin' around her face, dark eyes wide, skin glowing, clothes dripping wet—it was somethin' I know I'm gonna 'member for the rest of my life. An' then she turned, givin' me a view of that amazin' ass an' I jus' knew I had to have her.

My girl, Anita, has been two-timin' me for months now anyways. Of course, I been doin' the same to her, but it's the point of the matter tha's important, ya dig? Them broads I been seein', greasy broads with too much makeup, flat tits, flat asses, high-pitched annoyin' laughs…they all got nothin' on Katie. She ain't playin' hooker in her Mama's clothes—she's got real curves, real class. She's a gen'uine woman wonderin' around Tulsa, an' I'm more than happy to satisfy her.

"Curly…" she mumbled, an' my dick gave an eager twitch at her breathy voice. "No one's ever…" She trailed off, lookin' all bashful an' embarrassed. I smirked at her and leaned back, dragging my hands down to the waistband of her skirt.

"Don' worry," I reassured her. "Yer gonna love it." She nodded her head, eyes full of hesitant trust as she lifted her hips so I could pull the fabric from her.

I did it nice an' slow, makin' sure to hitch my thumbs so that her panties came off with it. She pressed her knees together as more an' more creamy skin was revealed an' I sniggered at her shy antics. Reaching her ankles, I stopped to pull off her sandals, letting them fall to the floor as I tossed the wadded up fabric on top of the abandoned clothing pile.

I stooped down, coming face to face with her knees before placing my hands on them, tryin' to urge them apart.

"Relax, baby," I muttered. An' relax she did. Her thighs cautiously spread for me, revealing the hidden treasure nestled between them. Normally, I woulda jus' gone 'bout my business, makin' her happy an' whatnot b'cause once ya seen one vag, ya seen 'em all, right? Wrong.

Underneath a small thatch of dark, wiry curls lay what had ta be the most perfect pussy known to man. The skin looked smooth an' soft, an' it was flushed a nice, rosy hue from arousal. The lips glistened with moisture—moisture tha' I caused—drawin' attention to the bright pink between them. My dick gave another eager twitch at the sight.

I reached a finger out, sliding it between her folds, spreading her wetness around an' gliding up until I brushed past her swollen clit. Katie yelped, back arching an' legs jerking with pleasure. I groaned low in my throat before gripping her thighs an' lowering my face so that it was level with her sex. I inhaled her natural scent, loving her cool smell more with each passin' second.

I rolled my tongue out, slipping it between her nether lips an' dragging it upward in one long, languid stroke. She yelped again, but I was the one that moaned in ecstasy. She didn't have the bitter, musky taste I had been expectin'. She was warm an' sweet an' much better than any candy I'd ever eaten. I repeated the action with the same deliberate pace.

"_Fuck_," I groaned, eyes rolling back in my head.

"Good fuck, or bad fuck?" She asked, sounding nervous.

"Amazin' fuck," I answered, giving her another lick. I heard her head connect with the wall behind her as she fell back. "Jesus _fuckin' _Christ, baby," I praised, taking my pointer and middle fingers to spread her lips apart, allowin' me to eye the small bundle of nerves between them.

I place a small kiss to her nub an' she jolted at the feeling. Her reaction made me grin. I carefully drew it into my mouth, sucking like I had done with her tits, an' one of her hands found its way to my head to forcefully pull at my hair. I turned my small suck into a deep, wet kiss—tongue slithering down to her entrance to lap at the juices there.

"Oh, god!" she moaned, voice not too loud, not too high, not too pushy. Just perfect. Absolutely fuckin' perfect.

I pulled my lips away from her to lick the clit directly. She whined an' tugged at my hair, moving my head a little to the left. I got the message she was tryin' to send: _around it, not on it_. I lazy moved my tongue in circles, teasin' her and adorin' her when she rocked her hips as I touched the nerves just right. I released her folds to take my slick middle finger an' slowly push it into her entrance, relishing the unbelievable tightness of her.

Katie whined again, muscles contracting, an' my imagination ran wild as I pictured her clenching around something else. My dick was so fuckin' hard tha' it actually _hurt, _but I chose to ignore it for the time bein'. I hooked my finger upwards as I sucked her clit back into my mouth, pulling it harshly and rubbing against that magic spot within her.

"Fuck!" she cried, hips bucking wildly. I slid my ring finger into her next, scissoring the two an' stretching her open before thrusting them in and out, rubbing inside of her in the same rhythm that I was sucking her.

"Curly!" She squealed as she arched her back, legs shaking an' hand mercilessly pulling at my curls. I could feel her muscles pulsing around me, drawing my digits deeper, an' I knew she was getting close. I flicked my tongue against her sensitive nub, wanting nothin' more than to hear my name surge from her mouth one last time.

"I'm gonna…fuck…you're gonna make me…Ah! Curly!" And that was it.

Katie's body stiffened, inner walls slamming down on my fingers, knuckles cracking, back arching, fluid dripping from her opening. That was all it took for me. My solid cock gave a hard jerk before releasing, coating the inside of my pants with thick, oozing cum. We moaned together as we both peaked; an' my brain buzzed with wonder an' bliss an' horny confusion. I fuckin' came. Without so much as a single touch, I fuckin' jizzed. In my pants.

I withdrew my fingers from her body, makin' sure to lick off every last sweet drop before cleaning her off with my tongue. Somethin' this fuckin' amazing shouldn't be wasted. Her breath was coming out in strong, heaving gasps as she basked in the afterglow. That's when I heard it.

The sound was muffled, like it was coming from somewhere far away.

_"Katie! Goddammit! Where are you?" _

"Shit," Katie mumbled, head rising.

"Someone lookin' for ya?" I asked.

_"Katie Annette Jewell!" _The voice sounded upset.

"Yeah," she sighed, pressing her palms to her tired lookin' eyes. "That's my sister, Charlotte."

_"Katie! I swear to God when I find you I'm beating the shit outta you! Do you hear me? I will smash your fucking face in!" _

"Wow. She sounds pissed," I commented as I gave her lower lips a farewell kiss and stood back up, stretching my back. "I don' know yer sister, but you might wanna get dressed jus' in case she follows through with tha' threat." I ran my fingers through her hair again. God, it was so fuckin' soft. "I wouldn't wanna see tha' pretty face of yers all bruised up." She gave me a modest smile an' I couldn't resist grinnin' back.

_ "Katie!" _The voice was getting closer now.

"Go on," I urged, pulling my shirt from the pile before passing it all to her. She hopped off the counter, swaying until she balanced herself on weak legs.

"B-but…we…I mean, you didn't…" she stumbled while latching her bra an' tugging her skirt back on. I silenced her with a kiss. Boy, I sure hope she don't mind tasting herself.

"You wanna know somethin'?" I muttered against her lips.

"Hmmm?"

"That was the best fuckin' pussy I ever tasted." I kissed her again. "The best tits I ever played with." And again. "The best ass I ever grabbed." Another kiss. "The best mouth I ever fuckin' kissed. Nothin' in this world is gonna stop me from seein' ya again, ya dig?" I asked her, nibbling on her bottom lip. She moaned quietly before giggling gently.

"Really?"

"Yeah, baby. Really." I pulled back so she could put her shirt on. "I'll see ya again real soon," I promised. And I meant it. Katie stood on her toes and pecked me on the lips as her sister screamed for her again.

"Okay," she agreed. And then she was gone.

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><p>That was the first sex scene I've written in a <em>long <em>time. I certainly hope my skills are up to par. :)

I hate begging, but please, please, please review. It makes me feel so special. I also accept constructive critisism and notifications of grammatical error.

Until next time, my friends.


	3. Tomorrow Never Knows

Thank you so, soo much to everyone that added my story to their favorite/alert lists, (And a few even added me as a favorite author. How awesome is that?) my inbox was full of notices this past week and I love every single one of them! I would especially like to thank **wishuy****, ****AlexisLe97****, Yehhhok, ****canadiangurl1989****, **and** Keep On Truckin **for leaving me amazing reviews. (**Yehhhok gets bonus points because they're always specific and detailed about what they like and it makes me feel special.) **You guys are the ones that make writing so much fun and I love you all in a completely platonic, nonsexual way.

**WARNING: MASTERBATION AND DIRTY THOUGHTS. That is all.**

I still don't own anyone from The Outsiders, I'm simply borrowing them for my own amusement. I promise to wash and return them when I'm finished.

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><p>I bit down on the knuckles of my left hand in hopes of muffling any wayward sounds that the running water didn't cover. This was getting ridiculous. I wasn't just suffering from a hormone induced fixation, I was fucking possessed. I couldn't get him out of my head—not even for a second.<p>

During the daylight hours my mind was filled with all kinds of dirty thoughts; thoughts about his skilled hands and burning lips, his amazing tongue, the wonderful feeling of skin-against-skin…and at night those images became even worse. Every time I went to sleep, I relived my evening at the drive-in over and over again. If I concentrated, I could hear his voice whispering filthy promises in my ear, could see his smirk as he artfully teased me until I was ready to beg.

It had all felt so good. _He _had felt so fucking _good. _Curly Shepard was like a drug. All it takes is one taste, just one hit, and you're an addict for life. I bucked harder into my hand, cheeks flushing with shame at my own desperation. Never in my seventeen years of life had I resorted to touching myself. I had never felt the need because, up until last Saturday, I had no idea what it meant to be truly _horny. _

My heat was pulsing, sending exhilarating signals through my already weakened limbs. I gradually changed my pace, trying to simulate the movements Curly had made with his mouth. I could picture him back in the restroom, head between my thighs and fingers inside of me, winding my body up and playing me like a fucking instrument. He had moaned while he was doing it, like he was a starving man feasting on something delicious.

_"…best fuckin' pussy I ever tasted." _

I whimpered and crashed against the tiled wall of the shower as my muscles spasmed and my pleasure crested, sending me soaring into a sky of euphoria. I gently rocked with the steady beat of my body, riding out the orgasm for as long as possible before gracelessly collapsing on the floor.

I curled my body in on itself and buried my face in my arms, hiding as the tears broke loose. It had only been two days since my encounter with Curly and I was already at the end of my rope. It was torture, plain and simple. The volcano of lust was frustrating and exhausting, but it wasn't the source of my grief. No, I had been curious and stupid, and I took it upon myself to run around Tulsa and gather all the information I could on Charles "Curly" Shepard. Obviously, I didn't hear a lot of good.

Remember when he asked if there was someone waiting on me? Someone that was going to get jealous? I had answered no, and when the question was directed at him, he did the same. I thought he might have been lying…I was right. Curly has a girlfriend, Anita Davis. The boy that I was chatting with was even nice enough to point her out from across the grocery store parking lot. She's small and thin, with soft, natural-looking blond hair and beautiful China Blue eyes. Her voice is wild and loud and she has a bubbly laugh to compliment her sunny smile. She's…pretty. And I'm…well…me. Katie. Nothing special…Nothing like her.

I couldn't believe that Curly would cheat on someone like Anita with someone like me. It just didn't make any sense. So, on some sick, twisted quest to tear my own heart and self-confidence to shreds, I asked the one question I'd wanted to avoid the most. _Does Curly…fool around a lot? _The response I got was devastating.

"_More than any other greaser I know! The man's got a record a mile long for Christ's sake—likes to see how many girls will fuck him before they catch on to what he's doin'. That little shit's got a list goin' of how many places he can 'do the deed' without gettin' caught." _

To date, those places include: In a janitor's closet at the high school, in the teacher's lounge after hours, behind the bleachers during a football game, under the goal post after the football game, in his brother's car, in the girl's locker room, in a bedroom with a girl whose boyfriend was in the next room, in the bathroom at The Dingo, out back behind The Dingo, on a bench at the park, in the bathroom at a bar, on top of the bar while everyone else was passed out! And now…we can almost add the bathroom at the Nightly Double to the list. Ladies and Gentlemen, let's give Charles Shepard a big round of applause for his remarkable collection of conquests.

I sniffled as a sob threatened to burst through my chest and splatter raw hurt and humiliation all over the bathroom floor. I clenched my eyes shut tighter to try and squeeze all the tears out. I had been used. I let him sweet talk me, let him make me feel special. I gave him exactly what he wanted and now I'd never see him again.

Everything he told me, _"best pussy, best tits, best mouth…" _It was all just a lie. _"Nothin' in this world is gonna stop me from seein' ya again…" _One big fucking lie.

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><p><strong>Curly<strong>

My knuckles cracked as they connected with the red brick wall in front'a me. It fuckin' hurt, which I was thankful for. Pain calms ya down faster than anything when yer pissed an' itchin' for a fight. It was all jus' a bunch'a fuckin' bullshit anyways. So wha' if Tim was older an' had done some time in the State Pen.? So wha' if he was the leader of one'a Tulsa's toughest gangs? Tha' don't make him no better than me. I pounded the wall again.

Who was I kiddin'? O'course Tim was better than me. He was cool an' strong an' really fuckin' smart. Not book-smart, but street smart. He knew the score, knew how to keep things movin'—keep the money flowin' in while keepin' the drugs out. There ain't a single thing tha' goes on in this town tha' Tim don't know 'bout. Shit, someone could sneeze on the other side'a Brumly turf an' he would know who it was, wha' time it happened, an' who all saw it. He's weird like tha'.

Growin' up, I always tried to be like him. Tim was my hero…still is my hero. I learned how ta fight real good so he'd take me with him whenever he had a job to do. I started smokin', started pickin' up broads, built up a record down at the police station. I was always ready for a rumble an' I knew how ta keep my trap shut 'round cops. I even started lookin' after Angel, which was fuckin' pointless, an' I ignored her every time she snapped, "Ya ain't Tim, Curly! Mind yer own damn business!" no matter how much it hurt.

All I ever wanted was for Tim to be proud'a me, to tell me I was a tuff kid an' tha' he was glad ta have me as a brother. But none of tha' ever happened, an' I knew it never would. Instead, he decided ta show how much I meant ta him by fuckin' my girl in the middle of the livin' room floor…while I was still in the goddamn house. I pulled my torn fist away from the wall, lickin' the stray drops of blood off my fingers. I couldn't decide who I hated more; Tim, Anita, or myself.

I knew I shoulda broke it off with Anita a long time ago. We ain't exactly been faithful to each other, an' in the rare times tha' we do get t'gether all we do is fuck. She ain't even tha' good no more. Loose. Used up. I took a deep breath, hoping it would calm my nerves. If Tim wanted her, he could have her—I wasn't about to touch her again, not after he put his dick in her. It'd be a laugh watchin' him try an' handle her anyways. Anita's always been a high-maint'nance bitch, likes ta complain 'bout everything an' gets jealous real easy. An' Tim's used to his broads bein' pushovers. I'd give 'em a day an' a half b'fore they killed each other.

I turned an' sat down on the patchy grass, back pressed against the wall that I 'bout broke my fuckin' hand on. I was in one'a the vacant lots scattered 'round the East Side, sur'ounded by nothin' but old car parts and darkness. The air was jus' as muggy tonight as it had been durin' the day, an' it reminded me'a Katie at the drive-in. My cock gave an interested twitch. I groaned in frustration. I couldn't even think 'bout her without my dick gettin' as hard as a rock. It was drivin' me outta my goddamn mind.

I had jerked off so much in the las' two days tha' I was sorta worried it'd break if I tried doin' it again. I strained to turn my thoughts ta somethin' else, like wha' I was gonna tell Tim when I got home or wha' I should do 'bout Anita, but it was useless. E'ery time I blinked a saw her: shirt all see-through, face flushed, eyes angry an' embarrassed. I had ta press down on myself through jeans tha' suddenly felt ten sizes too small as all the blood in my body gathered down b'low my belt. Christ, I ain't been this horny since my balls firs' dropped.

There was somethin' special 'bout tha' girl. Somethin' really fuckin' amazin'—an' I don't jus' mean her pussy. Gran'ed, her pussy was perfect, but so was the rest'a her. Her hair was smooth, her tits were huge, her body was soft an' curvy an' warm, she smelled real good, an' her smile made my stomach squirm in a way I ain't felt since the fifth grade. An' she had tasted _so good…_her skin…her mouth…tha' wonderful peach b'tween her legs…It was all so fuckin' sweet. Like vanilla ice-cream on a hot summer day. I'd give anything, _do anything_, for just one more taste'a her.

Givin' in to temptation , I glanced 'round to make sure I was still alone b'fore undoin' the button of my jeans to free my raging hard-on. It jerked as it was exposed, already colored a deep purple an' leaking clear pre-cum. Tha's what Katie did to me without even tryin'. Without even bein' here, actually. I gave myself a firm stroke, closin' my eyes an' tilting my head back as I let my imag'nation take over.

I pictured Katie kneeling in front'a me, dark eyes closed an' silky hair brushing 'gains my thighs as she took my cock between her lips. I glided my thumb over the glistening tip, spreading the liquid along my length to make the job easier. Would she love my taste as much as I loved hers? I thought of her small hand stroking me as her head bobbed, takin' me deeper an' deeper inta her mouth. How far would she be able ta go? Half-way? Most'a the way? Or maybe she was one'a them gifted ones that knew how to deep throat. My lungs hitched. It'd be so smooth and wet, an' I'd teach her how ta run her tongue along the ridge of the head jus' the way I liked it.

The desperate need to cum grabbed ahold'a me, an' I stopped to spit in my hand b'fore movin' faster, makin' sure to twist on the upstroke. The muscles in my legs clenched and released in ecstasy, an' I gritted my teeth as my breath started coming out in deep, heaving gasps. My face felt hot even though the sparks shootin' up my spine felt cold. God, I bet Katie'd blush the whole time too. I fuckin' loved that 'bout her; loved tha' I could tell wha' she was thinkin' jus' by lookin' in her eyes or at the color of her skin.

Maybe she'd peek up through those big eyelashes of hers, watchin' me as I brushed the hair back from her face an' thrust myself in an' outta her mouth. Fuck, maybe she'd be real horny too an' have to reach down between her legs to calm the fire there. My body shuddered an' I groaned. I could see her touchin' herself, gatherin' some'a tha' sweet wetness on her fingertips as she whimpered 'round the dick between her lips. Would she let me finish there? I squirmed as my chest froze—limbs seizing up an' balls tightening at the idea: Katie on her knees, hands gliding b'tween her folds, face flushed, eyes hazy, white cum dripping over her lips an' down her chin.

It was jus' too fuckin' much. I let out a startled moan as my cock violently released, shooting—one, two, three, four, five—thick, creamy ribbons into the dirt in front'a me. I sucked air back into my screamin' lungs b'fore crumpling against the wall. My dick twitched one last time, spurting out a half-hearted sixth ribbon that splattered on my jeans. _Shit. _I ain't never come so much in my entire life. If jus' thinkin' 'bout Katie suckin' my cock made me jizz that much, I'd have to be careful when the real time came. I don't wanna drown her.

Pleasurably exhausted, I tucked myself back in an' made a half-assed attempt at cleanin' the front'a my pants with my sleeve. The cogs in my brain were turnin' at full speed, an' I realized I didn't care 'bout the mess no more. Or 'bout Tim. Or Anita. Or the fact that they were fuckin' like rabbits right now. No…all I cared 'bout was Katie. Beautiful, irresistible, Katie. I ain't never wanted anything as much as I wanted that girl…an' I had to make sure tha' nobody 'round here tried ta touch her. Actually, fuck that, I don't even want no one lookin' at her. An' tha' left me with only one option.

I jumped up, thrilled by the new goal tha' had settled inside my mind. I was gonna go home, yell at Angel to wipe some'a that makeup shit off'a her face b'fore she went out, dump Anita on her boney ass, an' let Tim know tha' he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with her. Then, I was gonna go find Miss Katie Annette Jewell an' make her mine. My new girl.

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><p>Again...please, please, <em>please<em> review. Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and notification of grammatical error are all greatly appreciated.


	4. Day Two

BEHOLD! The obnoxiously long fourth chapter has arrived! I meant to post this earlier, but I wasn't sure if I liked it so I held onto it for a while.

As always, thank you: **AlexisLe97****, ****canadiangurl1989 (I dedicate this entire chapter to you because you said boinked. Thank you, you have no idea how happy that made me.), Yehhhok (Actually, you get three cookies and cupcake. Let's throw in a muffin too because you brought up emotional connection in your review and that helped shape this chapter.), wishuy, beba78 (I can't think of one off the top of my head, but I will look for someone for you.)** and **SigmaSky**. All you guys are amazing and your reviews are what keeps this story going. After all, I'm not writing this for me, I'm writing it for all the fans who believe there isn't a big enough Curly fan base. (Which is true.)

**WARNINGS: NONE…yeah this chapter's clean. Sorry. **

*huge sigh* Nobody but Katie and Dani are mine…yet.

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><p>If you think being stranded at the drive-in sucks, try being stranded at The Dingo. Not even ten minutes after we sit down—bam!—she's gone. I really needed to get my own car…or maybe some better friends.<p>

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Dani. She's been with me through thick and thin, even going so far as to move to Oklahoma right after I did because she 'missed her other half.' Dani isn't a friend, she's my family. The sister I never had, the yin to my yang, the fries to my milkshake, the icing on my cupcake, and any other half of something awesome.

But we're very, very different. In every way. And I mean that. My hair is brown, hers is blond. My eyes are brown, hers are blue. I'm curvy, she's a stick. I try to hide my body, she likes to flaunt hers. She's boy crazy, I'm scared of boys. She's loud, I'm quiet. She loves math, I love art. She looks good in warm colors, I look good in cool colors. She likes The Beatles, I like Elvis. She's a vegetarian, I couldn't live without meat. We're _different. _And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Dani accepts my quirks and I accept hers, which is why I wasn't shocked when she took off in pursuit of Ponyboy Curtis the moment she saw him walking on the other side of the dingy diner window. She's been chasing that boy for weeks now…and sometimes I mean that quite literally. (There was one incident at the DX where Pony saw Dani before she saw him, and he split—running like Lucifer himself was snapping at his heels. Unfortunately, she turned around and followed. Fast.) Poor Pony's so scared of her, and I really don't blame him. I've seen Dani with guys before and she has a tendency to be just a little bit…overwhelming. She's a sweet girl once you get to know her though. Maybe he'll get used to it.

I poked at the ice cubes floating around in my glass of Coke, trying not to think about the gigantic hickey on my neck that was caused by a boy that screwed a girl in the bathroom twenty feet away from me. The restaurant was filled with cigarette smoke and stray hoods trying to pick up on the latest gossip, and the summer heat was still as damp and oppressive as it had been for the last month. I wanted to go home. I heaved a deep sigh and glanced around, hoping to see someone familiar that might be willing to give me a ride. And of course, I did see someone familiar. Someone who made my stomach churn and heart flutter and injected my veins with dread. Curly.

He was leaning up against the counter, a bottle of Bud in one hand and a cancer stick in the other. I would never, no matter how much I detested him, be able to claim that he was anything less than beautiful. His muscles rippled underneath the fabric of his white wife-beater and his skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His jeans were grease-stained and tight, hugging amazing curves that no man should be allowed to have. A scrawny blond kid with stringy, ungreased hair was talking animatedly with him, and Curly's pouty lips curved into a grin at something that was being said. I take back what I thought before. Curly Shepard wasn't a drug, he was sex personified.

He tossed his head back, black curls bouncing and neck displaying a prominent Adam's apple as he laughed before ashing his smoke in someone's bottle. They glared at him, cursing in a low voice that I couldn't hear over the jukebox. Curly just extended his grin and shrugged. He was so relaxed—so fearless. How would it feel to live life that way? Doing whatever you want without giving a damn about the consequences…I don't think I'll ever know.

Curly turned towards the counter to drop his bottle and order another when he spotted me. My heart stopped. Cobalt eyes widened and flashed with recognition, and his grin made the awe-inspiring transformation into a full blown smile. I felt like I was going to pass out. The journey for alcohol forgotten, Curly dismissed himself from his friends and came swaggering up to my corner-booth table, eyes roving over my body. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Hey, baby." His voice was deeper than I remembered. "Fancy meetin' you here."

My gut gave a forceful lurch. This was his game—to be charming, to seduce. I don't mean anything to him. My eyes itched, but I ignored it. I wouldn't cry here. I had done enough of that at home. Curly plopped himself into the seat across from me, elbows resting on the tabletop. He was studying me, probably checking me out or trying to think of the most enticing thing to say. I exhaled, a sad frown painted on my lips.

"What do you want, Curly?" I asked, my tone much more sensitive than I would have liked. He looked taken aback.

"Wow…" he uncomfortably scratched at his hair. "Tha's not exac'ly the greetin' I was expectin'. Wha's up?" His throaty timbre raised a few octaves, going from seductive to mildly concerned.

"Nothing you need to worry about." I was trying to put a stop to the conversation. But, this was Curly, and from the small amount of time we spent together I knew he was persistent.

"No, somethin's puttin' ya down. Talk ta me, sweetheart." He reached to brush a rough hand against my skin. I tugged my arm away. He sulked, actually seeming a bit hurt before sighing.

"Wha' did I do wrong?" he asked flatly, now noticing that my mood had something to do with him. I think the question should have been 'what did he _not _do?'…or '_who _did he _not_ do?' My heart tugged. It was a painful sensation.

"It's only ever 'baby' or 'sweetheart' or 'darling' with you," I chided, surprised at myself because the words coming out weren't even close to what was going through my mind. However, they rang true; he never has called me by my name. So, I just went with it. "Do you even know my name, Curly?" He tilted his head to the side in that puzzled puppy look and nodded. I gave him an expression that clearly called _bullshit. _

"Yer name's Katie." Okay, maybe it wasn't bullshit. "Katie Annette Jewell." Definitely not bullshit. "Yer seventeen, kinda shy, an' ya got two sisters—both older than you. One's name is…Charlotte, right? An' ya never mentioned the other one."

Uhh…How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? After three days, Curly remembered everything he had heard in passing. Ev-er-y-thing! I don't even remember telling him I was seventeen! And here all the people I've been talking to told me he was dumb.

"I…don't know what to say," I admitted with wide eyes. His grin came back, but it was slight.

"Now tha' I passed yer test, do I get ta hear wha' I did?"

I wanted to say no. I didn't want to have this talk here, not with so many people around. I didn't plan on making a huge scene or anything; people just tend to eavesdrop around these parts and one of them might decide to stick their nose where it doesn't belong.

"I've just…heard some things," I mumbled. "Because I've been…asking about you…to find out what kind of person you are…"

Curly's face fell and his shoulders slumped. He shifted his eyes, darting them around the room, looking at anything but me.

"So…wha' exactly did ya hear?" He sounded dejected, gloomy even. And perhaps a little bit cautious. It appeared that Mr. Shepard knew how important it was to tread lightly in these situations.

"A lot of things," was my vague reply. He ran his hands over his face in an exasperated manner, muttering a soft "shit" as he did so.

"Can we…I dunno…go som'where an' talk 'bout this?" He was worried about the people here too. For someone so impulsive, he sure understood his surroundings. Blue eyes finally met mine, pleading.

"Sure," I said.

We both stood at the same time and left the diner, the little bell above the door ringing on our way out. We didn't speak to anyone. We didn't look at each other. I did cheat once and glanced at his legs, noticing his black shoes were being held together by a healthy amount of duct tape. Curly led me to his car—a rusted, ancient looking Pontiac—and he paused to open the passenger door for me. It creaked something terrible and I was genuinely worried it would fall off the hinges. I didn't own a car though, so I kept my concerns to myself and sat down. The interior was dusty and worn, smelling strongly of gasoline and nicotine. There were no seatbelts.

"Yeah, I know it's a piece'a shit," he commented as he clamored into the driver's seat and jammed the key in the ignition. The car roared to life with a strong purr. At least the engine was in good shape. Putting it in reverse, Curly slammed on the accelerator and we shot backwards at close to thirty miles an hour. Stopping suddenly, and almost sending me through the windshield, he shifted it into drive and we hit the highway at eighty. The speed limit was fifty-five.

"If we get in a wreck and I die, I'm going to make sure my spirit comes back and haunts you for the rest of your life," I announced, pressing myself as far back into my seat as physically possible. Curly barked out a laugh and dropped the speed to sixty-eight.

"I'm used ta ridin' with Tim," he said. I didn't respond, opting to watch the passing blur of trees and houses instead.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes of much slower but still terrifying driving and plenty of awkward silence, I found out where Curly's "somewhere" was; a large pond just outside of Tulsa's city limits. It was a grassy area, filled with lush green trees that blocked out the sunlight—making the temperature comfortably cool despite the increased humidity. The body of water was a murky tan, dyed from the muddy run-off caused by recent thunderstorms, and it was far enough away from the road for the sound of traffic to be nonexistent. All-in-all, it was a lovely place to be.<p>

I jumped out of the metal deathtrap, eager to back on safe, solid, nonmoving ground. Curly popped open the trunk, leaving his keys in the ignition, and walked around back to pull out a case of beer. He nodded at me to follow him.

"You're just going to leave your keys in the car?" I wondered, trailing after him. I stepped over tree roots and fallen branches as he made his way to a patch of dry dirt near the water.

"Yeah, ain't nobody 'round here tha's gonna try an' steal it." He was probably right.

Curly sat his beer down and grabbed a stick off the ground, shifting from one foot to the other a few times. Then, he started drawing a huge circle in the soil.

"What the hell are you doing?" I gaped in confusion.

"We're gonna play a game," he answered. Irritation boiled underneath my skin.

"A game? I thought we came here to talk, Curly." Not that I was particularly excited to talk to him. Because, it's one thing to hear bad news from a stranger…they could be lying. But when the news comes from the source itself, you know it's true. And I didn't want the things people told me about Curly to be true…

"We are. Tha's wha' the game's for. I use'ta play this with Baby Curtis when we was kids."

"Baby Curtis? You mean Ponyboy?" I had no clue that they were friends. They were so… opposite. And not the Dani and Katie opposite, more like Pluto verses the Sun opposite. Pony's sweet—full of dreams and kindness and innocence. And Curly, well…Curly's a straight-up hood. His muscles and reckless grin told me so.

"Yup. We use'ta buddy 'round a lot b'fore his folks died." He chucked his stick into the pond and sat Indian-style inside the circle, pulling his beer next to him. He motioned for me to do the same. Hesitant, but curiously interested, I lowered myself in front of him with my legs curled up beside me. His expression was serious, making him seem older and more mature. I think I liked it better when he was grinning.

"So, what kind of game is this?" I nudged.

"We never named it. I would say the circle game or somethin'…but tha' jus' sounds fuckin' stupid." Curly finally smiled a little bit, and blue irises drifted upwards to gaze at the beams of light peeking in on us from between the leaves.

"Whenever things was gettin' rough, me an' Pony'd go to the park an' make a circle in the sandbox. To us it was…I dunno…sacred. Something real secret an' important." His eyes wandered back down to me.

"In the circle, ya can talk 'bout whatever you want. Ya can say wha' yer feelin', wha' yer thinkin', any dreams yer havin'…fess up 'bout somethin' ya regret…anything goes. Whatever's said gets erased with the line when ya leave—ya never talk 'bout it again unless yer in another circle. We had ta make it a game though, b'cause we're greasers. An' greasers don' go 'round talkin' 'bout their _feelings _an' their _problems, _b'cause that shit jus' ain't tuff. So, we played it like Truth or Dare without the Dare. No question, no matter how gross, or personal, or fuckin' inap'ropriate, is off limits. Ya can ask whatever ya want. _And_—an' this is the most impor'ant rule—ya _can't_ lie. Tha' goes fer me too. Ya can say ya don' wanna talk 'bout somethin', but ya can _never _lie. It breaks the bond, ya dig?"

To say I was stunned would probably be the biggest understatement in the history of mankind. I couldn't grasp the idea of Curly and Ponyboy inventing a game like this just so they could talk without feeling ashamed. Is that what the East Side does to you? Does it make you stuff your feelings so far inside yourself that you forget that they're there? Is that why we're hoods? This was something so elaborate and personal…and Curly was letting me in on it. He was…trusting me. I'd feel like a bitch if I said no.

"Okay," I nodded.

"Good." He popped the cap off a beer and handed it to me before opening one for himself. Usually, I don't drink—but if there was ever a time in my life when I needed liquid courage, this was it. I held up the bottle as if to say 'cheers', and took a sip of the strong, bitter brew. My face scrunched up at the flavor. How the hell did people actually like this shit?

"How are we going to do this?" I asked, watching Curly take a swig from his own bottle.

"Well…we could start out small, jus' kinda shoot the shit an' whatever. Or we could pick up where we left off over at The Dingo." He said it so casually, as if we were walking around town with nothing to do.

"I think I'd like to pick up where we left off." That was a lie. I wanted to avoid our conversation more than anything else in the world right now. I felt like I liked Curly though, and I needed to get my facts in order before I got in over my head.

"Okay," he sat up straight and shuffled an inch closer towards me. "Wha' all did you hear 'bout me, then?" I took a deep breath, like I was about to dive into the pond headfirst to see how long I could stay under.

"Like I said…a lot. I heard the small stuff, like your full name…" Charles Joseph Shepard. "Also, that you're seventeen, you have a brother named Tim and a sister named Angela…um…you can drink any poor bastard under the table…you broke your arm falling off a telephone pole, you're in a gang and…supposedly, you have one hell of a record built up at the police station." Curly's lips twitched at the mention of his illegal accomplishments. I wanted to roll my eyes. _Boys_.

"It don't sound like none'a tha' bothers ya," he commented.

"It doesn't. I have no problem with you being a hood," I said evenly, leaning forward a bit. I made sure to keep direct eye contact with him as I spoke. "What I do have a problem with is a little list that I heard you keep—do you know which one I'm talking about?" Curly's skin paled and he ran an anxious fist over his mouth. Yeah, he knew. I let a bitter sneer stain my face.

"So it's true then?" I pushed. "You really have a list of all your girls and all the places that you've managed to fuck them." I shook my head in disgust, struggling to ignore the tears burning behind my corneas.

"Yeah…" he muttered. My organs displaced themselves—heart dropping to my feet and stomach jumping into my throat. "Kinda…"

"How the fuck is there a 'kinda' with something like that?" I was pleased that I sounded so angry. I'd take being angry over a looking like a sad, pathetic school girl any day.

"It was a bet a few'a the guys came up with. Whoever could screw 'round with the most girls in the most places withou' gettin' caught got all the money from the drag race winnin's." I shook my head again, this time in disbelief. There was hardly any time for me to process the newly acquired information as my heart ripped in two. In vain, I smashed my palms against my face in hopes of holding back the salty trails that wanted to leak from my eyes. They surged out anyway. Money…I had been used for money. A sob was torn from my chest.

"Hey," Curly whispered. He tried to pull one of my hands away from my eyes, but I wouldn't let him. I sniffled pathetically. All he had done was tell me the truth, and I responded by turning into a fucking toddler. I had known beforehand how this conversation would turn out. So what if he only saw me as another one of his toys? That didn't mean shit. I didn't need him. I attempted to suck my emotions back inside, but my body quaked as I refused to weep. Who the fuck was I kidding? I felt like trash. Cheap, used up, good-for-nothing trash.

"Katie…" he mumbled, moving to wrap strong arms around me. The muscles tightened, cradling me against his ridiculously hard chest with unexpected tenderness. "Tha' was months ago…You wasn't part of it. I swear." I could hear Curly's heart beating loud and steady in my ear. I sniffled again. He smelled really good. "Are ya listenin' ta me? I promise tha' you wasn't one'a them girls." His deep baritone voice made his upper body vibrate, and to my annoyance, it soothed me.

"Tha's why I brought ya here—so we could talk 'bout this hones'ly. Tha's why I told you 'bout the game." I wasn't sure if I could believe him, but I wanted to _so _badly. I buried my face deeper into his shirt.

Curly sighed, the exhale sounding sad rather than exasperated. He squeezed his arms a fraction tighter and nuzzled his face into my hair. I liked this. I liked the closeness…the comfort. I didn't want to let it go. My hands crept away from my watery eyes as I slowly returned Curly's embrace. His body sagged with relief. This felt right.

* * *

><p>I let him hold me for what seemed like hours, until the tears had stopped and I was considerably calmer. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead before dropping his arms, and I pulled mine away as well. I kept my eyes downcast. I didn't think I could look at him right now.<p>

"Sorry…" I mumbled, playing with the hem of my shirt. The fabric was amazingly soft and colored a slate grey. With my navy blue skirt, it was one of my favorite things to wear.

"Don' be," Curly said. I briefly hoped my face wasn't that post-cry splotchy red color. I cleared the clog in my throat. Now, I just needed to bring up the second thing that needed to be discussed—or at the rate I was going—cried over. I let out a rickety breath. Dammit. I was too tired to approach the subject carefully, so I blurted it out instead.

"I met your girlfriend."

"Anita?" he asked. That was all I needed to know. It didn't hurt this time, my heart couldn't sink much lower.

"Mmhmm…She's really pretty." I wouldn't be a bitch about this one.

"So are you." My face burned so hard that I was sure any water left on there had evaporated. I giggled like a moron for a second, effectively humiliating myself.

"Not quite," I stated.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"How come?"

"Because it's true."

"No it ain't." Curly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I turned my head away.

"I'm sure Anita wouldn't like you talking sweet to another girl, Curly."

"She don' care," he said. "B'sides, Anita ain't my girl no more." My heart soared back to its rightful place. I snapped my eyes up to stare at him, elated, but afraid he was lying. He didn't look like he was lying. In fact, he looked pretty peaceful. Cobalt eyes were hooded, appearing gentle and serene. His full lips were marginally upturned, barely pulled out of a flat line. His face was smooth, no lines or wrinkles, just that light dusting of freckles that I adored so much. Yearning sparked to life inside of me. Christ, he was cute.

"Can I ask why?" I questioned.

"We're in the circle, baby. Ya can ask anything ya want."

"And you have to answer honestly right?"

"Yup. An' the same goes fer you." Curly said with a nod. I nodded back. "It ain't a long story ta tell," he continued. "I was upstairs in my room, went downstairs ta get a beer, an' I found her an' Tim fuckin' on the livin' room floor."

"That's horrible!" I exclaimed with wide eyes. He shrugged.

"Naw, tha's jus' Anita. She's always screwin' 'round. I ain't never caught her b'fore though. Sure, I was fuckin' pissed, but it gave me the reason ta split with her tha' I been lookin' for."

"You weren't happy with her?"

"Not really. When we firs' got together I was, but then she was jus' kinda there. Ya know wha' I mean? Somethin' I knew would be there when everthin' else was changin'.

"Something familiar," I said.

"Yeah, tha'. Anita was f'miliar." Curly tossed his head to get his hair out of his face. It made me smile. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, like he was thinking hard about something.

"I like you," he said suddenly. To put it simply, I had a heart attack. My pulse sped up until it froze, and I forgot how to talk…or blink…or swallow…or breathe.

"Huh?" I garbled. _Nice, Katie. Real smooth. I'm sure you've just seduced the pants right off of him._ Curly grinned.

"I like you," he repeated.

"B-but…wha-…h-how…gah!" I covered my eyes as my face heated up. I don't think I'd ever been more embarrassed in my life. Couldn't my brain have picked a different time to be the equivalent of a limp noodle?

"Yer so fuckin' cute," he teased. I giggled that nervous giggle of mine.

"You don't even know me," I managed. "And I don't know you."

"So? Let's get ta know each other then." I was speechless again. "C'mon," he urged, sliding backwards a bit. "Ask me anythin'."

"Maybe you should go first..." I suggested, because my mind wasn't working well enough to think of _anything, _let alone a question.

"Alrigh'. I seen ya don' talk like the folks 'round here, so where're ya from, darlin'?

"Memphis, Tennessee."

"No shit?" Curly looked delighted by my answer. I nodded. "Wha's it like there? I ain't never been farther than Okie City b'fore."

"Well…it's hot for most of the year…" I began, thinking back with some nostalgia. "It floods a lot during the spring but the city's really good about letting us know ahead of time. We get a lot of tourists because of Elvis," Curly and I flashed each other a smile. I could see him being a fan of The King. "Whenever he does a concert there, the streets are packed with people hoping to get a glimpse of him, like he's just going to come walking down the street any minute. Umm…There are a lot of Blue's bands, a lot of Negros, a lot of small shops." I grinned at some of the happy memories.

"In the summer time all you smell is smoke and barbecue, and sometimes if you're lucky you can talk a shop owner into giving you a discount on food that expires soon. And a lot of people have dogs—I love dogs. This older black couple down the street, Miss Maybelle and Mr. Johanson, they had a white German Shepard named Hewie that I'd always play with whenever I got too lonely. He was a good dog, minded really well and was great with kids. He was protective too. I loved that German Shepard more than life itself, and when he died I swore that I would get a dog one day and raise it up to be all strong and virtuous like him." Curly's face mirrored my own, a startling contrast of excitement and tranquility. I was glad he was interested in what I had to say. At home, when I talk about something that isn't extremely important, people don't listen.

"Back to Tennessee though, I guess the best way to describe Memphis is…a classy sort of tacky," I lamely finished. A part of me missed home, missed the thriving culture and the crazy nightlife and the sound of saxophones echoing out of clubs at three in the morning. But another part of me was so happy to be away, away from the people, away from the memories. Maybe, when I was older, I'd go back and visit someday.

"Sounds crazy," Curly remarked. "So dif'rent from Tulsa."

"It is," I agreed. It was my turn to ask a question. "How old were you when you first got arrested?"

"Twelve," Curly beamed, clearly proud to have a record at such an early age. "Got caught hotwirin' some Soc's car tha' was parked on the side of the road near the river." He laughed, and it was a deep happy sound that made my insides tingle. Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a pack of Kools and held them out to me, offering one, but I declined. I wasn't a smoker, nor would I ever be.

"Prob'ly a dumb question, but are ya goin' ta school when it starts back up?" His words were spoken in a lazy drawl as he took a long drag on his cigarette. _Shit. _Suddenly, my chest seized and bile launched itself into my throat. I took a shaky breath as my head swam, and I hoped I didn't look as sick as I felt. It was just a question. A simple, common, innocent question. One that I knew I could answer.

"No," I replied. Curly raised his eyebrows at me. "I haven't gone to school in a long time. I still study on my own, learn new words and read books and all that, but I never go to class." I gave a one-shouldered shrug to make the words seem casual.

"Uh-huh…ya looked kinda like you was gonna puke when I brought up school." His tone was inquisitive. "Any pa'ticular reason fer tha'?" I wanted to say no_..._but I couldn't lie. Those were the rules and I had agreed to them.

"I stopped going to school when I was six…" I could still hear the laughter of the other kids, all sitting cross-legged on the rainbow rug during story time. "I never even made it all the way through first grade." The stab of jealousy was overwhelming, sitting on the concrete steps outside, watching Moms and Dads stoop down to welcome their child with open arms. "I was…put in a girl's home for a while. They had a teacher there." Itchy sheets, high pitched wailing echoing through cold hallways. "His methods were…a bit unorthodox." The white-hot sting of an open palm striking soft skin. "I've stayed away from teachers ever since." '_Don't trust don't trust don't trust don't trust don't trust.'_

I couldn't read the expression on Curly's face, and that made me worried. He flicked his ashes off to the side before filling his lungs with more nicotine.

"I stopped goin' when I was fourteen," he said through his smoke. "I was in an' outta the r'formatory fer a couple'a years, an' then when I act'ually went to school I wasn't learnin' nothin'." The look on his face was melancholy. "They had me in them special classes…ya know, fer dumb kids. An' teachers always gave me a hard time b'cause I don't read real good. Shit, I don't think I could even tell the diff'rence b'tween numbers an' letters until second grade. So I jus' quit. Wouldn't'a had the grades ta grad'uate anyways."

"Dyslexia."

"Wha'?" Curly looked confused.

"Having a hard time reading, not being able to distinguish numbers and letters—it sounds like you have dyslexia."

"Wha' the hell is tha'?"

"It's a learning disorder. A common one. Like, the way you see a word and the way I see a word are completely different. For you, the letters may be turned upside-down or backwards, or maybe they don't even look like letters at all. For me, I just see it like everyone else does. Your brain works differently."

"So…I'm retarded?" I laughed at his conclusion.

"No. I didn't say that. You see things a different way. That's not a bad thing. In fact, you're probably a lot smarter than people give you credit for—and the whole reading problem is because of the Tulsa school system. Teachers are supposed to notice these things, especially since dyslexia is pretty easy to treat. All they have to do is teach you how to look at words in way you understand."

"Really?" Curly looked skeptical and hopeful; two feelings I didn't know could be combined. "Ya don' think I'm jus' dumb?" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Of course not." He smiled at me, his body lighting up from the inside out in the most pure and beautiful way. It was a _real _smile, the kind of smile that people love to see but very seldom get to—the kind of smile people wish they had but aren't alive enough to feel. It left me breathless.

"No one's ever said tha' ta me b'fore," he said.

"That's…really sad, Curly."

"Naw, not really," he brushed my statement off. I sighed and looked around.

The hot day made me feel slow and lazy, and I reached over to set my forgotten bottle down outside of the circle. I watched Curly finish the last of his off before grabbing it and doing the same. If we were to lie down side-by-side, we'd still be in the lines.

"Move next to me," I told him, patting my hand against the dirt. Curly did so without hesitation, extinguishing his cigarette along the way. I flopped back, folding my arms behind my head, watching the tree branches sway with the breeze.

"Yer gonna lay on the ground?" Curly asked, mimicking my position. "Most broads I know would rather lose an arm than do tha'."

"Why? It's just dirt. It's not like it's gonna bite you or anything. Well…a bug _in _the dirt might, but I'd like to think I'd kill it before it got the chance. Unless it was a grasshopper. I like grasshoppers. And butterflies." From the corner of my eye I could see Curly looking at me.

"Ya dig okay, baby," he said, amusement evident in his voice. It made me giggle. He chuckled. Then, we glanced at each other and burst into gut-wrenching laughter. I don't know what was so funny, and twenty bucks says he didn't know either, but the day was warm and the sky was bright, and we were both young and reckless and everything was beautiful.

Curly turned on his side as our laughter started to die down, watching me with another unreadable expression in his dark blue eyes. He reached up, small smile on his face, and softly trailed a finger along my cheek. The simple contact made me shiver.

"Yer turn ta ask a question," he whispered.

"Mmmm," I tried to focus, but he was too close and his touch felt too good. "I can't think of one."

"Nothin'?"

"Nope."

"Jus' ask the firs' thing tha' comes ta yer mind." He kept running his finger along my cheek—up and down, up and down. I thought of something.

"It's a stupid question," I said.

"Tha' don't matter," he assured me.

"Okay…" I mumbled. "On a scale of one to ten, how good-looking do you think you are?" Curly paused, digesting the information.

"Wha' kinda question is tha'?" he sniggered.

"I don't know. You told me to ask the first thing that came to my mind!" I cried.

"I thought you'd ask fer my fav'rite color or somethin'." He turned his focus back to my skin.

"Well…" That's what a normal person would do. "I didn't. So answer." I playfully smacked him in his side. He grinned at me.

"How good-lookin' do I think I am? Hmmm…I guess an eight," he said. Yeah, he was an eight alright, an eight billion. He still scored himself pretty high though, so at least he was aware of his good looks. I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or bad thing.

"Wha's one thing yer afraid of?" Curly asked.

"The dark," I immediately answered. "I can't stand the dark."

"How come?"

"Because of the absence of light, obviously." He snorted at me.

"Wiseass," he muttered.

"Always," I smiled. "If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?" The hand on my cheek fell away as Curly propped his head up with one arm, looking down at me. He hummed in thought.

"Anything?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

"Yep, anything."

"If I could have _anything_ right now...I think it would be…a kiss." I glanced up at him, confused. Did I hear that right? He ran a finger over my bottom lip. "Jus' one more kiss from you." My stomach tied itself in knots and my body shuddered. Curly leaned closer, brushing his nose against mine in the sweet gesture that I loved. My eyes fluttered shut.

"It's all I been able ta think 'bout since tha' night at the drive-in," he confessed. Yeah, me too. Well…that and then some, but we weren't talking about _that_. "Can I kiss you, Katie?" His voice was a husky whisper.

"I don't see what's stopping you…" I muttered back. Curly moved his hand from my lips to run his fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face. He placed a petal soft kiss to one warm cheek, and an identical one to the other. Then, one on my forehead. And one on the tip of my nose. Another one on my chin…Then finally, our lips connected. And it was heaven.

* * *

><p>Really, REALLY long chapter, huh guys? Since it was so large, there is a lot more room for error on my part. So, please, if you notice anything don't hesitate to tell me. And if you were expecting more sexy time I do apologize. This story actually does have a plot that needs to develop and I chose this chapter to get it started. (Unfortunatly, I still don't like the way it flows.) Reviews of any kind are coddled and adored. Gimme?<p> 


	5. Day Three: Preperations

Wow guys, long time no see. I'm so, so, soooooo sorry for making you all wait this long for an update. I don't think I'll ever be able to apologize enough. I've been suffering from a serious case of writers block, even though I have this entire story planned out. I'm having a hard time pulling the right words out to form a well-written chapter and I refuse to post anything that's not my best work. Now, on with the overdue gratitude!

I want to thank: **canadiangurl1989**** (I'm glad my comment made your day), ****Brooklyn Careana**** (I'm sorry for tainting your mind, but I'm so glad that you enjoy my story. And surprisingly, you're the first person to bring up the apostrophe marks! Thank you for that! It's kind of my way of getting across his uneducated, southern drawl.), ****wishuy****, the forever amazing Yehhhok (Your reviews are so special to me. You're so detailed and supportive, and I often find myself going back and rereading them over and over again.), ****JusticeHarmonyLynnWilder**** (Wow, thank you for not only sitting there and reading every chapter straight through, but for taking the time to review each one.), ****AlexisLe97**** (Awww, here, you can have cookies too! I didn't mean to leave you out! And I love how you call him Curly-Fry. ^.^ It's cute.), ****beba78****, ****pixie4sparks****, ****outsidersdallaslover94**** (Who this chapter is fully dedicated to because you messaged me directly and that really pushed me to get this chapter finished.), ****iOwnZombies**** (I love that name.), and ****BrokenWing-FallenButterfly**** (Thank you so much! I'm always scared about my lemon scenes being too raunchy because I'm, of course, a pervert/romantic too. I'm glad I've done the genre justice!) **

Warnings: None. Sorry, we have ourselves another clean chapter.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anyone…except for Katie.

* * *

><p><strong>Curly<strong>

"Curly!" Angela pounded on the door, makin' the flimsy wood bend inside its frame. "Wha' the fuck are ya doin' in there? I have ta get ready, dammit!"

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see it. No, Angel did not need to 'get ready.' Because when she says 'get ready' wha' she really means is 'I gotta put all the makeup in Tulsa on my face so ev'ryone can see how easy I am.' She's only fifteen for Christ's sake. She don't need all tha' shit.

"Don' cuss Angel," I scolded, grinnin' as I heard her scream in rage. I turned back ta the cracked bathroom mirror, checkin' myself over for the millionth time. I was freshly showered an' shaven, my teeth were cleaner than they've ever been in my entire fuckin' life, I made sure I was wearin' deodorant an' I even stole a little bit'a Tim's cologne fer good measure. I had a date with Katie t'night. A real one. An' fer the first time in ages…I was nervous. Really, _really _fuckin' nervous. It had been so easy when I asked her out yesterday b'fore I took her home…then I started thinkin' 'bout wha' we was gonna do, where I was gonna take her, if she was gonna dress up real nice….My stomach did tha' uneasy squirm thing again. I hated tha'.

I poked at one'a my dark curls, wrappin' it 'round my finger an' releasing—watchin' it bounce back inta place. Should I try an' grease 'em out? It'd take a whole lotta Dixie Peach if I did…an' it prob'bly wouldn't work. I sighed. Somehow, I ended up with the most diff'cult curls in the family. They was more stubborn an' springy than Tim an' Angel's an' Ma's combined. They say I got it from Dad, but how the fuck would I know? I don't 'member the bastard all tha' much. I gripped the edge of the sink, lookin' at the veins raisin' up under my skin. Maybe I should brush my teeth again…jus' in case.

"Goddammit Curly!" Angel shrieked. Jesus, she was still out there?

"Angel!" I hollered. "Wha' time is it?"

"I don' fuckin' know!" Her voice was getting' higher, meanin' she was gettin' more an' more pissed.

"Go check!"

"Fuck you! Check it yerself!"

"Tell me wha' time it is an' I'll let ya have the bathroom!" I bribed.

"FINE!" I heard heavy footsteps stomp along the hallway and down the stairs. I wanted to laugh. It was so easy ta get my sister worked up. I tried ta picture Katie doin' this at her house—hoggin' the bathroom ta piss her sisters off. I don' think she would. She ain't the type. A door slammed. Tim was leavin', an' for once I was glad he wasn't takin' me with him. The gang was supposed ta steal a few cars an' run 'em down to a chop shop over on Tiger turf 'round ten t'night. When they do shit like tha', all I get ta do is play lookout even though I can hotwire a car faster than anyone else 'cept Tim himself. They all think I'm too dumb ta do anything useful… Katie don't think I'm dumb. She said so herself.

We did a lotta talkin' yesterday, me an' her. I told her some things tha' I ain't never told nobody else, not even Baby Curtis. An' I like ta think she did the same, ya know? Tellin' me 'bout Memphis an' the girl's home an' all tha'. An' she let me kiss her…Even though she knew 'bout tha' damn list an' 'bout Anita…she still let me kiss her. But _fuck, _I wanted ta do so much more than kissin'. My cock twitched. _Down, boy. _I had'ta wait though. I had'ta wait fer her. This wasn't one'a my hump an' dump jobs, this was the real deal. I was gonna have'ta play my cards right—let her take things slow. I don' care if it takes years, Katie's one worth holdin' out for. She's…special. Diff'rent. When I held her while she was cryin', tha' was the first time I hugged anyone since I was little. An' it felt…I dunno…right. Comfortable. I didn't wanna let tha' go.

A muffled yell came from somewhere in the house.

"WHAT?" I screamed. The stomping footsteps were coming back.

"I said its five-thirty!" Angel repeated. Shit. I was s'pposed to pick Katie up at six. I ran my fingers through my hair one last time an' ripped the door open. " 'Bout fuckin' time, asshole!" I shoved Angela aside so I could move past her, but I was stopped by her hand grabbin' my arm.

"Wha' Angel? I'm busy!" She raised one thin eyebrow at me as the signature Shepard smirk spread across her lips.

"Well look at tha'," she teased. "I thought you was jackin' off in there when you was actu'lly gettin' all prettied up."

"Fuck off," I muttered, cheeks warm. I didn't think the change'd be so notic'able. I jerked outta her grasp an' stormed to my room. She followed me. "Yer gettin' ta be a real pain in the ass, ya know tha'!" I tried to slam my door, but she caught it b'fore it could close all the way.

"Who is she?" Angel asked, struttin' in like she owned the damn place.

"Get outta here!" I ordered, tuggin' my dresser open to look for a diff'rent shirt ta wear. It was too hot out for black, my white one was covered in oil stains, the grey one has blood on it…Hey! So tha's where I put my other pack'a smokes. I been lookin' fer those. I pocketed the cigarettes.

"Do I know her?"

"Ain't ya got yer own date ta get ready for?" Shit, she was gettin' on my nerves!

"He can wait," she said, crossin' her arms in tha' determined way'a hers. I sighed.

"No, Angel. Ya don't know her." Abandoning my drawers, I turned my attent'on to the clothes on my floor—tossin' them 'round in hopes of unburyin' somethin' tha' at least looked clean. Angela didn't move. "Why the fuck are you still in here?"

"Ya know…I ain't never seen ya this worked up over a girl b'fore. It's kinda funny. She go to my school?"

"Angel, I swear ta God, if you don't shut up I'm gonna get my blade an' I'm gonna cut yer fuckin' tongue out!" I threatened. She just rolled her eyes at me.

"Bullshit. Tim'd kill ya. Tell me 'bout her," she demanded. I groaned in frustration.

"No." I chucked a pair of jeans into the corner only to find a black bra hiding under them. The fuck? Who did tha' b'long to? I kicked it away.

"Just tell me who she is!"

"It's none'a yer fuckin' business!"

"Tell me, Curly!"

"No!"

"Tell me! Or I'll tell Tim 'bout tha' time ya smoked weed with Kevin Arnold at Buck's party!" Goddamn it! I knew tha' would bite me in the ass one day! I fuckin' knew it!

"Ya do tha' an' Tim'll know 'bout the time I caught you with Chris Lloyds dick in yer mouth!" We glared at each other from across the room, the air thick with unspoken tension. We were at a stalemate. I exhaled slowly, forcin' myself ta relax. Angel may be a bitch…but she's jus' curious. Lord knows I've hassled Tim like this plenty'a times. Well…until he hit me. I didn't try again after tha'.

"Her name's Katie…" I offered, voice much lower than b'fore.

"Where'd ya meet her?" Her voice was quieter too.

"At the drive-in."

"Ya like her? Like…_like her, _like her?" she questioned. It was like third grade all over again, askin' someone if they _like liked _a girl instead of jus' _liked_ her.

"Yeah…Yeah, I like her."

"…She pretty?"

I shook my head like I was sayin' no. Angel gave me a weird look.

"She's beautiful…" I murmured. Her blue eyes got real wide, kinda like tha' 'deer in the headlights' look. She uncrossed her arms, lettin' 'em hang limp at her sides.

"Oh…" she mumbled, an' it sorta seemed like she was hesitatin'. "So are ya…ya know…nervous?" I chuckled. We was walkin' on unfamiliar territory with this conversat'ion. It didn't feel real…like it was all a dream.

"Very…" I admitted, anxiously rubbin' my hands t'gether. "I…really don't wanna fuck this up." She jus' nodded, eyes still wide an' black curls bouncin'.

"Umm…" Angela ran her fingers over her mouth for a second b'fore stepping to pick up a few things off the floor. "Wear you're dark jeans…" she said, holding them up. "An' the blue shirt hangin' up in yer closet…It'll match yer eyes." She tossed the pants on top of my unmade bed. "An' wear yer black boots…not the shoes with all the tape on 'em…Ya might wanna grab the chain for yer wallet too…an' yer good lighter, the one tha' flips open. Girls notice things like tha'. If ya can…hold her hand…Don' act…" she waved her arms 'round, like she was tryin' ta pull words outta the air, "Don' act greasy…try an' be sweet."

"Okay…" I sounded dazed. Hell, I fuckin' was dazed. Angel nodded again an' awkwardly looked around.

"An' don' forget to open doors for her an' stuff…" she mentioned.

"Okay…" I'm sure my eyes were jus' as round as hers. Suddenly, she spun 'round an' walked out the door, almos' closin' it all the way b'fore peekin' her head back in.

"And Curly…"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"If ya really think she's beautiful…don' be scared ta tell her."

Then, she was gone.

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><p>I'm sorry to give you such a short chapter after the last one was so long. I know this one is a little different than what I've been writing, but I really wanted everyone to get a glimpse of Curly's relationship with Angela before diving back into Katie's side of everything.<p>

Like the past four times, all reviews are loved and adored and cuddled at night. (If I still have any reviewers, that is.) Don't hesitate to tell me if you've found any errors or if anything bothers you. After all, constructive criticism leads to better writing! :)


	6. Day Three: Assistance

**PLEASE READ THE NOTE BEFORE THE CHAPTER!**

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><p>I know I normally use this space to personally thank each and every one of my reviewers, but I'm going to take a break from that for one chapter to talk about something that I think is very important. Some of you may not care or may not want to hear it; hell, I may even lose a few followers over it, but I don't care. It matters to me.<p>

On November 30th, 2011, I lost a friend. Now, before you settle on whatever your mental image of "friend" is, I'll go ahead and say that we weren't friends in the conventional sense. We didn't go to school together. We didn't call each other. We didn't "hang out", or anything like that. You see, Mikey was anorexic. It's not very common in boys, but it's still very real and very possible. And, when I was eleven, I was diagnosed with manic depression. (_Manic Depression: Alternating moods of abnormal highs (mania) and lows (__depression__).) _It's often characterized as a type of bipolar disorder depending on how rapidly the moods change. Mine change very slow—I'll have three months of insane happiness only to gradually crash into a crippling sadness. I'm actually very lucky, because so many people out there have it a whole hell of a lot worse. Either way, to avoid the doctor's stupid solution of medicating, I agreed to join group therapy. That's how we knew each other—how we were friends.

To get to the point, Mikey was forced to go back to school before he was ready, and to escape the taunting and the bullying and the insults of his peers (fag, queer, and direct punches to the face and stomach were their favorites), he made the decision to end his own life. Now, I'm not looking for sympathy or anything like that, because I know I'll always remember Mikey as the person he truly was. _Funny, beautiful, smart, talented, awkward, nerdy Mikey. _I'm just…trying to make a point.

I want to tell **all **of you (as un-preachy as possible), that there is **nothing **in this world worth **hurting yourself over. **There is nothing in this world worth **dying **over. If you die, they win. All those fucking assholes win. Life is hard, I know that. I promise, I know that firsthand. Sometimes you get depressed or you get hurt, and it just feels easier to stay down. I've been there. Mikey has been there. And I'm here to tell you that you **can **get back up. It doesn't matter that we don't know each other's names or have never seen each other's faces. **I fucking love you. You are my friends, and I fucking love you. **Every one of you is beautiful, and special, and fucking magnificent, no matter what some arrogant dip-shit in the next classroom has to say.

If you do find yourself feeling sad or depressed—maybe you had a bad day, your fish died, you can't find your favorite book, your boyfriend broke up with you, you're being bullied, you need advice, you're hurting yourself, you're lonely, you're suicidal—please, message me. If you can't talk to someone you know, I promise I **will listen** to you no matter how big or small the problem is. If you don't have an account on here or you don't use it, then email me. ( koan .bielik -whycan'tIputanatsymbol?- yahoo . com _remove the spaces._) I promise I will _always _answer you. Just, whatever you do, please don't give up.

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><p>Now that I got that off my chest, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It's actually a bit reminiscent of my own first date, hahaha!<p>

**Warnings: None for now. You'll have to wait for the next chapter. ;) **

Disclaimer: Except for Katie and Dani, I still don't own anything.

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><p><strong>Katie<strong>

"What the hell is that?" I cried, backing away from the blue splattered brush my friend was holding. Dani scowled at me before breaking out into a grin.

"It's eye-shadow, Katie. It goes on your eyelids." A bony hand shoved the brush towards me again, and, indignantly, I smacked it away. I was really starting to regret asking her to help me tonight.

Is it supposed to be that dark?" I wasn't about to put that on my face. I'd look like a goddamn clown. Is _that_ what all the other girls were wearing? No wonder boys thought they were so easy. Dani laughed, shaking her blonde head.

"You're impossible! You ask me to make you pretty, and then you don't like what I tell you to do."

"That's because that shit isn't pretty!" I exclaimed. "I want to look good, not like I'm covering up the scars from a horrible accident! If I kiss him tonight he's gonna think he was slimed!" Dani cackled louder, bending at the waist and holding her sides, occasionally gasping for breath. "You are completely useless right now, you know that don't you?" I scolded, furrowing my brow and crossing my arms in a childish pout. "It's not that funny."

She just kept laughing.

Charlotte stomped on the floor of her bedroom, shouting a polite, "Shut the fuck up!" in her high-pitched, wailing voice. With one last giggle, my friend hushed and straightened—cheeks flushed red and hair disheveled. She didn't want to be thrown out just yet. There was still work to be done.

"Okay, okay, we'll comprise," Dani offered calmly. I cocked an eyebrow at her as if to say _"and how the hell are we gonna do that?" _"You can pick the colors, and I'll do the applying." That didn't sound so bad. "But…" Of course there was a 'but', there's always a 'but'. "I get to do your hair."

In a split second, dozens of horrible images ran through my mind. The classic beehive hairstyle Dani's mother wore, an afro of untamable curls charred black by a too-hot curling iron, an accidental mixture of chemicals staining my hair an orangey blonde, or my friend lighting a cigarette while spaying hairspray and setting my entire head on fire. My skin must have paled at the thoughts created by my vivid imagination, because bright eyes widened in a look I read as, _"Calm the fuck down, you crazy bitch."_

I exhaled.

"Fine."

I might as well have signed my death certificate.

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Not so thick, dammit!"

"Oh my god, Katie, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. _YOU _picked the color, you _CANNOT _complain."

"The color is fine, it's the _amount_ that's the problem! I don't think it's supposed to go up my eyebrow!"

"It's not going up to your eyebrow, you crack-head! It's on your eyelid!"

"No it's not! Christ, Dani! I look like a hooker!"

"You do not! I do my makeup like this every day. Are you saying I look like I suck dick for money?"

"…no…"

"Exactly. Now look up."

"Ow! Fuck! My eye!…I _hate_ you."

"I love you too."

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow!"

"Stop whining, you baby."

"Then don't pull so hard!"

"It is not that bad!"

"OW! Too tight! Too tight! Look! I have fucking Asian eyes!"

"Well…you did always tell me you thought the Japanese were beautiful."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be scalped in an attempt to imitate them! Take it down! Please!"

"Ugh, fine. Hand me the curling iron."

"My hair isn't long enough to be curled, Dani!"

"I'm not gonna fro you! I'm just touching up the ends!"

"But— "

"If you complain one more time, I'm burning your neck! It'll look like a hickey! What're you gonna tell your date then, huh?"

"Goddammit!…I _hate_ you."

"I love you too."

**Twenty Minutes Later**

"What about this?"

"No."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Katie…you look…manly."

"Manly? How?"

"It's too baggy!"

"It is _not_! It's comfortable!"

"Honey, you're going on a date. You're supposed to look hot—seductive, sexy, irresistible! You're supposed to make it impossible for him to keep his hands off of you! Now put this on and show a little a cleavage for Christ's sake."

"C-cleavage?"

"Yeah, the tops of your ridiculously huge boobies."

"I'm not exactly comfor—"

"I don't care. Put on the skirt."

"This is a skirt? I thought it was a belt!"

"Ha-fucking-ha, you smartass. Look, you're a greaser. Like it or not, that's the side of town we live on, and that's what we are. Now act like it! Show off your legs, flaunt your curves, and throw on some heels for height, shorty."

"Heels aren't going to give me any height. I'm like…four-nine."

"You're five-two, and every little bit makes a difference."

"I don't care, and I'm not wearing that. Any of it, Dani, I mean it!"

"You know what…come here…"

"Woah! No! NO! Don't you touch me! Dani! Let me go! No! I DON'T WANNA WEAR THE SKIRT, DANI!

"Stop fighting it! Ow! Don't hit me, you crazy bitch! Put it on!"

"NO!"

"Put it on!"

"NO!"

"Ha! One leg in!"

"Nooo! What's wrong with the dress! I can't wear this! STOP BITING ME!"

"Are you gonna give up!"

"No! OW!"

"Put it on!

"Ow! Whyyyy?"

"Put it on and I'll stop!"

"OW! FINE! FINE! I'LL PUT IT ON! I GIVE! I GIVE! Just let me go!"

"Hahaha! See, I knew you'd see things my way."

"Why am I friends with you?"

"Because you love me."

"I know."

**5:45 P.M.**

"Let me see," Dani demanded, flopping down on the shabby brown couch in the living room. Dust floated up at the impact, hanging heavy in the air and tickling the blonde girl's nose. She sneezed, and I inwardly smirked at her two seconds of suffering. Yeah…I'm pathetic like that. Awkwardly, I shuffled out of the hallway and into the light, almost stumbling in my newly acquired high-heeled shoes. Blue eyes lit up at my appearance, and I was momentarily blinded by my best friend's dazzling smile.

"Perfect," she praised, clapping her small hands together in a mock applause. "How do you feel?"

"…Uncomfortable," I admitted, tugging halfheartedly at my skirt. After trying on the _ridiculously tiny _one, we both agreed on something a bit longer—which I was incredibly grateful for—trust me. But that didn't change the fact that I felt naked and exposed and very, very vulnerable.

"You'll get used to it."

I didn't want to get used to it. I wanted my dress and sweater and the comfortable sneakers I found in the dumpster behind a gas station in Tennessee. This wasn't me. This wasn't Katie.

"Have you looked in the mirror yet?"

I shook my head 'no' and Dani pointed me in the direction of the bedroom like an authoritative parent. And, like the sullen child of said authoritative parent, I obeyed.

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I walked down the carpeted hallway, suddenly hyper-aware of what time it was and who I was about to meet up with. What would Curly look like? Well…I _know_ what he looks like—_a fucking god—_but how would he dress? Like, did guys get flustered over dates like girls did? Especially with girls like me?

I tried to picture him primping himself like I had been for the past two hours, and all I could come up with was him fluffing his hair, lips puckered and eyes narrowed as he gazed at himself in his bathroom mirror. I laughed.

"What?" My friend questioned, voice muffled like her mouth was full of the chocolate cake I baked this morning. Which it probably was.

"My brain," I answered. Then, reaching the reflective glass, I stopped cold.

_Holy shit._

_Holy-fucking-shit._

_Holy-fucking-Jesus-Christ-fucking-goddamn-shit._

I looked…_good_. _Really good._ The creamy foundation I loathed so much evened out my skin tone flawlessly, making me look…well…flawless. A deep rose accentuated by earthy brown dusted my eyelids, drawing attention to carefully darkened lashes and doe-like irises. My lips were painted a soft-nude, giving the illusion of a natural, plump pout. And my hair…Oh god, _my hair. _It was _glorious. _The dull brown I was so accustomed to now appeared healthy and shiny and unbelievably soft. The ends were feathered, curling slightly around my ears and neck, framing my face in an undeniably feminine way.

Even the clothes, a slightly low-cut, plum colored top and an almost-modest black skirt were flattering to my figure. The fabric held my curves snugly, but did so in a way that wasn't greasy and lewd. I looked…like a woman. A beautiful, desirable woman.

"I could get used to this…" I muttered, eying my ample cleavage.

"See?" Dani broke in, leaning against the doorframe and licking chocolate frosting off her fingers. "Don't you look amazing?"

I grinned and threw my arms around her bony shoulders.

"Thank you, Dani. You're the best."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around me too, sealing the hug. "Think you'll start grooming yourself now that you've seen how hot it makes you?"

I thought of the hair pulling and skin plucking and tiny makeup brushes loaded with tinted powder.

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell," I replied.

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><p>Yay! I hope you all enjoyed seeing a tidbit of Katie and Dani's dysfunctional (but lovable) friendship, because like I said before, I really had fun writing it. Oh, and expect some sexy-time next chapter! I know it's way overdue. :3 As always, reviews and criticism and notifications of stupid mistakes are well-fed and cuddled at night.<p> 


	7. Reflections of a Friend

Wow! It's been so long since my last update! I hope you guys can find it in your hearts to forgive me, especially considering this chapter is so short. As you can tell from my last author's note, my life has slowly descended into complete and utter chaos, but I'm slowly getting it under control and getting back on track. So, without further ado, the next chapter!

Warnings: None...yet.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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><p><strong>Dani<strong>

I've always been an 'act now, think later' type of person—someone that doesn't consider the dangers or consequences of anything until it's way too late. I think it's in my blood, because my entire family, traced all the way back to their roots in Germany, has been that way. We don't hesitate. We don't question. We just _do_, and hope things work out for the best. Feelings like unease and worry were so rare to us that their presence was almost unrecognizable. Foreign. I think that's why I was confused by the skin-crawling sensation that threatened to smother me as Katie walked up to that piece of shit Pontiac.

I watched from the porch as her date opened up the passenger door for her, holding her hand gently and beaming like he won the fucking lottery—and _Christ, _that boy was a looker. I spared a glance at his backside as he leaned over to mutter something in my best friend's ear. _Not bad. _Grinning, I flailed my arms frantically, giving her two thumbs up and a wink while he wasn't looking. She raised her hand at me in a shy wave, flushing heavily but smiling all the while. It was a look I had never seen before, and my throat tightened as if I were about to cry.

Her date, whatever the hell his name was, gave me a brief nod as he eased himself into the driver's seat and I set my jaw and raised my eyebrows at him, hoping my message was clear: _Treat her good, greaser. _He stared at me with solid but warm eyes, and I figured he got it well enough. Then, they were pulling away, engine roaring and tires squealing, and I sniffle strongly to ward off any tears.

_What the fuck, brain? _I cursed inwardly. _For years you tell the girl she needs to find a boyfriend, yet when she does you have a breakdown. What's wrong with you? _

But, deep down I knew why I was upset. It had to do with my helping her get ready…with dressing her up…with making her _so beautiful. _

In the back of my mind…with every curl I put in her hair, I saw an oily, waist length, tangled mess. With every dust of powder, I saw a cut or a faded bruise. With every skirt, I saw a torn, tattered, girl's home dress.

With every word, I heard silence.

With every smile, I saw tears.

In this woman, I saw _Katie. _Not as she was, but how she _used _to be.

She was growing up…changing…and the happiness I felt for her was overwhelming—but so was the fear. I sank down to the porch as my eyes began to burn, pulling my legs in and resting my chin on my knees. This night brought out a painful nostalgia for me, throwing buried memories to the forefront of my thoughts and playing them like an old film. There's a lot about Katie that people don't understand—not her parents, not her sisters, and, to some degree, not even me. Her childhood is a Pandora's box, her heart a dark cavern—filled to the brim with shadows and monsters and secrets alike. And Curly Shepard…I don't think he can handle that.

My lungs burned desperately for a cigarette at the realization, but I was too tired to move. Maybe I was getting worked up over nothing. After all, the two of them had only known each other for what? Five days? Who's to say things would work out long enough for them to talk that much?

I sighed.

Who was I kidding? This girl was my other half—my soul-mate, and if my instincts were telling me this guy was important…Well, then he probably was. If Romeo and Juliette could fall in love and die together in one weekend, then dammit, two greasers could too…just preferably without the dying.

A strong chill ran down my spine and I anxiously wiped my sweaty palms on the end of my long skirt. That was a word I didn't like…

Dying…

"_There's only one thing everyone and everything on this planet have in common. Death." _

The first time I ever talked to Katie...our conversation had been about death.

"_Our animals…our families…us…we all die." _

I let out a long, slow breath, pursing my lips together as if blowing a smoke ring. I didn't like thinking about the day we met. We were seven, and it was…weird. Katie…she used to be weird.

"_It doesn't take long for the rot to set in, you know." _

You'd never guess it now, but back then everyone was scared of her. Even the teachers. They thought she was…ill.

"_I think it's the eyes that go first." _

Sick in the head.

"_Maggots like eyes." _

But…she wasn't sick.

She acted like it, and she sounded like it…but really…

"_Katie, why do you stand like that?" I asked, back pressed flat against the cinderblock wall of the building, eyeing the decaying bird in the smaller girl's hands. My gut churned as I noticed a single white worm crawling over her fingertips, searching blindly for its home. Cracked lips curved upwards in a humorless smile. She poked at the poor aviator's beak, wedging a dirty nail inside of it and prying it open with a horrifying 'crack'. She dropped it then, head rolling and wings snapping loudly. It was grotesque sight. _

"_Like what?" The brunette's voice was soft—hollow even—and rough from lack of use. She tilted her head, dark eyes locking on mine as she gazed through tendrils of snarled hair. There was no way those tangles were going to come out, I had thought. She'd have to cut it all off first. _

"_Like…that. Bent over." I slumped slightly in demonstration. _

…she was just…hurt.

_Katie was indeed bowed over, folded from the waist up as her shoulders curled forward like an old hunchback. Her arms were kept tucked in, crossed over her stomach as if she were giving herself a hug. Knobby knees were slightly buckled, and her neck was kept craned upwards, head twisted slightly to the left in order to see through the mess attached to her scalp. _

_I pulled my jacket tighter around myself at her blank stare. _

"_Because…" she said, pressing her palms flat against her abdomen. "I have to make sure they don't fall out." _

_I furrowed my brow in confusion. _

"_Make sure what doesn't fall out?" _

Katie was hurt in a way she's never once explained, and, just maybe, in times like this, when I see the woman she's become—the sensitive, beautiful, caring girl that I love with all my heart—I feel guilty.

"_My insides." _

Because I've never asked.

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><p>This was so short it's almost obnoxious. *looks at you with watery eyes* I can has reviews, please? I promise I'll do better next time.<p> 


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